The Price of Vision
by cutiesonthehorizon
Summary: Visions come with a price, as Tomas would soon learn. Missing scenes from season 2.
1. Episode 2

A/N: My second foray into The Exorcist. Pretty sure this was already done several times, but I think there's never enough fic out there:) Chapters will be added as I write them in reaction to the episodes. Non-betaed yet. I welcome any comments and suggestions.

* * *

It was his first vision after six months and it came at a rather inopportune moment, while he was driving a truck on a dusty field road, being chased by a pissed of cop, whose wife was currently tied up in the back of the truck, shielded by Marcus. The vision was short but vivid and it left him with a sickly taste in his mouth and a startling headache as he was violently thrown out of it and right at the steering wheel.

„What are you doing?!" Marcus shouted at him as Tomas corrected the trajectory of the car.

„Trying to save your life!" Tomas shouted back, the sudden dose of adrenaline pushing back the hazy feeling of the vision as well as a headache. When the back window exploded as the cop shot at them and Tomas was showered with glass all thought about the vision vanished. They needed to get out of this situation and do it fast before one of them was seriously harmed.

Luck was with them and Tomas managed to lose their followers for a while. They found an empty barn and barricaded themselves in with Cindy and the demon. The fight for her life and soul has already started.

Twenty-four hours later, Marcus hummed behind the wheel, the song stuck in his mind like a bad commercial jingle.

„I will never get rid of that song now, huh?" Marcus asked suddenly and Tomas shot him a tired but amused look.

„You just need to replace it," he drawled, turning the knob on the radio. He sipped at the coffee they bought at the gas station before they headed out of town. Tomas still wasn't sure what exactly did Bennett say to Marcus that made him hightail it out of Montana. All Marcus told Tomas was that the Vatican has been compromised and someone will be looking for them.

"For us or for you?" Tomas asked, still a bit pissed off over Marcus' sulking. As soon as he said it though, he realized it didn't matter and the look Marcus gave him told the same thing. It didn't matter, because after six months away from Chicago, away from his parish and his church and training with an excommunicated exorcist, Tomas was just as much on the radar of the Church as Marcus. And based on what he knew about the methods the Church used to investigate Bennett and Marcus as well, Tomas was pretty sure he wasn't ready to face the inquisition anytime soon. Not that he ever planned to lead Marcus into danger, however annoying the older man could be.

"So where are we heading?" Tomas asked after another sip of coffee, hoping that the caffeine might help with his growing headache. Or at least keep him from falling asleep. After Cindy's exorcism and that little trip into her mind infested with the demon, Tomas was pretty sure he had more than enough material for some vivid nightmares.

"I have a place in mind," Marcus replied to his question, pulling Tomas out of his thoughts. Tomas grimaced at the answer as it didn't tell him anything. It seemed like Marcus was still sulking over the fact it was his vision that helped them defeat the demon.

"Well, let's hope there's some motel on the way. I would just about kill for a bed right now."

Marcus gave him an amused look.

"Careful, padre. You still have the collar," he reminded and Tomas thought he heard some bitterness in the statement, but looking at Marcus and his relaxed face he realized it was just his imagination. Shaking his head a bit, Tomas sighed and leaned back into his seat. He was really done in and somewhere in the back of his mind there were the nagging words of the demon 'He's afraid of you' and Tomas wondered if it was true and if so... was that fear justified?

"If you want to sleep, just go ahead," Marcus spoke suddenly, startling Tomas.

"What?"

"I said get some sleep if you want. I'd like to get out of Montana before we stop anywhere."

Tomas grimaced at the thought of spending the next few hours in the car and rubbed at his eyes.

"You alright?" Marcus asked, looking at him searchingly. Tomas blinked, surprised at how muddled his thoughts suddenly become.

"Yeah... just a bit of a headache," he muttered, wondering who he was trying to convince. The adrenaline of the exorcism has finally left his body and the stress of the last few days seemed to catch up with him in an instant. He could feel Marcus eyeing him from behind the wheel and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it wasn't worth much. Marcus snorted then turned his eyes back to the road.

"You sure your 'chat' with the demon didn't mess up anything in that brain of yours?" This time the bitterness was clear and Tomas chose to ignore it by looking out of the side window.

"Thought so," Marcus muttered, taking the silence as an admission of doubt, whether Tomas meant it that way or not. Tomas looked at him, mouth open in protest, but Marcus stopped him with a glare. When he spoke next, Tomas thought it would be with anger, but instead, there was weariness as he said:

"Get some rest. I'll wake you when I'll get tired of driving."

Unaccustomed to that tone and feeling too tired and beat to argue the point, Tomas decided for once he would listen.

TBC


	2. Episode 3 - part 1

The vision that woke Tomas up a few days later left him gasping for breath and blinking away the confusion, sweat dripping down his face.

„Sweat dreams?" Marcus asked sarcastically from the driver's seat, pulling Tomas back into reality. They were sitting in the truck, the engine turned off. Marcus looked at him searchingly and Tomas had a feeling that he was being watched longer than he realized.

Clearing his throat, he straightened a bit in the seat, trying to regain his composure and push the vision back.

"Where are we?" he asked, ignoring Marcus' previous question. In return, he got a small disappointed shake of head and a soft 'Here', before Marcus stepped out of the car, slamming the car door shut. Tomas looked around and realized they were indeed there, in Seattle. So much for staying off the radar. Sighing, Tomas straightened his clothes and stepped out of the car, ready to face another day and another demon.

* * *

The moment when Marcus rushed into the room and pushed away Harper's mother, Tomas realized something wasn't right. As Marcus shouted the facts and Harper's mother fled the room, Tomas knew his vision was wrong, that this was all a mistake. He momentarily froze, unsure of what was even real anymore, but then he decided it didn't really matter, not in this moment.

"I'll go after her," he said, too ashamed to stay with Harper and a bit worried of what would Marcus do if he caught up with the mother. Running down the steps, he called out after her.

"Mrs. Graham?"

There was silence and his steps slowed as something caught his eyes. There on the kitchen table was a box filled with medication. Taking one of the bottles in his hand he read the label and the sinking feeling in his stomach only deepened. Marcus was right. Harper's mother was the one poisoning her mind and body. Letting out a sigh of disbelief, he was startled by a screech coming from behind him. Instinctively turning, he saw the angry woman launching at him, saw the glint of something deadly swishing right at his head. He was still mid motion when the hammer connected with his skull, sending him sprawling on the floor. His head exploded in pain and his vision went out.

He couldn't have been out long, but his mind was fuzzy as he opened his eyes. The left side of his face felt kind of numb, while there was a piercing pain in his head. Something warm was running down his face, over his left eye, making it hard to see. Reaching up, Tomas frowned when his hand back red.

'Blood,' he realized, dumbfounded. Blinking, Tomas slowly turned on his back and stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. He was in a house, doing something important. It seemed impossible to remember just what happened and the growing nausea didn't help. He might've stayed lying there much longer, if not for the scream and the crash.

"Harper?" Tomas breathed out as the last few hours came crashing back, along with his last conscious thought.

"Marcus!" There were sounds of a scuffle and even from the bottom of the stairs Tomas could hear Harper's sobs. He had to get up, to help her. Slowly, so damn slowly, Tomas managed to stand, although he had to lean hard against the wall. Another crash as someone's body hit the ground and the screeching of a woman and Tomas made it up the stairs stumbling and half crawling, but faster than he imagined possible in his condition.

When he crashed into the room, leaning hard against the doorjamb, the scene before him made his stomach clench. Harper was curled up in her bed, hiding under the covers and screaming with fright. Marcus was pinning Mrs. Graham to the ground even as she was making a perfect imitation of a possessed person, what with her screaming and trashing around. There was a piece of bloody mirror lying next to her hand. Tomas blinked and saw spots of blood on the floor, the deep cut on Marcus' arm.

Stumbling in on wobbly legs, the room kept spinning and his head was killing him, Tomas made it to Marcus and pushed the piece of glass out of reach.

Marcus looked up at him with wild eyes, his breathing harsh from the fight.

"Tomas?" he breathed out and Tomas saw the pure relief in his eyes. It was short lived when Marcus really took in his appearance. Tomas wanted to reassure him, to tell him he was fine and not to concern himself, but he had trouble forming words and all he could focus on was the steadily bleeding cut on Marcus' arm and the still trashing woman.

"What now?" he managed to ask and Marcus looked momentarily lost. They needed to secure the woman then call help, but neither of them was in such a great shape. Their dilemma was quickly solved though as they heard a sound from downstairs. The police have arrived.

* * *

In the first moment it was utter chaos. When three armed cops entered the room and saw two men leaning over a woman on the floor, blood everywhere, they logically came to the conclusion that they were the bad guys.

"Police! Let go of her! Arms up!" There was shouting, lots of fast movement that Tomas was incapable to follow as he was grabbed from behind and pushed down on the ground, only sensing that Marcus was dealt with in a similar way. His world went fuzzy, but he could hear Marcus shouting at the cops to let him go. Harper was openly crying now and Tomas got lost.

"For fuck's sake, let him go! Don't you see he's injured?" Marcus shouted at one of the cops then turned towards Rose, pleading with her, his words rushing out, telling her the story of drugging and sickness. Tomas wasn't sure what did it, maybe the fact Lorraine Graham started fighting with the cops as well and managed to bite one of them, but soon the weight from his back was gone and hands helped him into a sitting position.

Blinking, he saw as two cops led the still struggling but handcuffed Mrs. Graham out of the room. One cop was kneeling next to Marcus, a restraining hand on his shoulder keeping the older man down. The other cop was standing next to Tomas, intermittently watching him and keeping an eye on Harper, who was being tended to by the social worker.

"Tomas?" Marcus asked, throwing a concerned look at him, while using his hand to stop the bleeding wound on his other arm.

"You okay?" Tomas asked dumbly and was rewarded by a snort of disbelief.

"Me? Really?" Marcus shook his head. "Did you look in the mirror recently?"

"Sir? Can you tell us what happened?" The cop that was standing next to Tomas leaned a bit over, checking him out.

Tomas slowly blinked.

"She hit me with a hammer," he said with a tone of disbelief. "Mrs. Graham. She was the one... poisoning Harper," he added, just to make himself more clear. "I was wrong. Everything was... wrong."

The cop gave him a dubious look and Tomas knew it must've seemed like he was babbling, but he didn't care. He looked at Marcus.

"I was wrong."

Marcus clenched his teeth and gave a small shake of his head. This wasn't the time or place for self-recrimination or for an I told you so. He was just too happy to see Tomas alive. The moment he saw the blood on the hammer...

The sound of sirens pulled Marcus out of his thoughts and for once he welcomed it with relief.

* * *

Several hours later they were released from the clutches of the doctors as well as police. A call to Marcus' friend that originally sent them there helped clear up the situation. The fact Harper's doctor found clear evidence of the systematic poisoning also helped their case and even Rose seemed to be on their side. In the end it seemed to be easier to get rid of the police than to dissuade the hospital staff. While Marcus' arm was taken care of quickly, the head injury Tomas suffered was of a bigger concern. Luckily the scan was clear and even though Tomas showed mild signs of a concussion, he managed to convince the doctor that he won't be staying alone and Marcus was experienced enough to keep an eye on him.

Seeing Tomas sitting in the hospital chair, pitifully holding the ice pack to his head, Marcus wasn't so sure about the wisdom of that decision. On the other side, staying in the hospital would put them in more danger. They've already disturbed the waters plenty enough to draw some unwanted attention.

„You hungry?" Marcus asked, looking at the wide assortment of junk food in the automat.

„Not really," Tomas muttered, eyes downcast. Marcus gritted his teeth, frustrated by the situation. On one side, he wanted to say I told you so, I warned you, but seeing Tomas so depressed made him swallow the words in disgust. There was still blood on the younger man's face and neck and Marcus couldn't forget the moment he saw Lorraine walking into the room, brandishing the bloodied hammer. For a minute all he could see was the image of Tomas lying on the floor, his brain leaking out from a crushing head wound, just like his mother. When Tomas stumbled into the room, all bloodied but alive, he felt such a surge of relief that it kept him on his feet even now.

Selecting a candy bar and a bag of chips, Marcus decided to ignore Tomas' mood and pushed both items in front of his face. Tomas looked up, pausing for a while then succumbing to the look on Marcus face, only to be denied the candy bar. Frowning, Tomas looked up at Marcus questioningly and Marcus couldn't help but smile teasingly. Tomas blinked then accepted the bag of chips, the corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small smile of his own. They had their differences, but the look on Marcus face was one of acceptance. Despite all that was said and done, he was giving Tomas another chance.

"You do this long enough," Marcus spoke softly as Tomas put the chips aside, "you think you understand the evil in all its forms, every face that it wears. Then someone like this comes along..." Marcus bit his lip.

"At least with a demon, you know where you stand. There's... purity to the design," he paused, his eyes looking into the distance, seeing something else. "A logic... a form. But a parent who did that to their own child," Marcus looked towards Harper's room, then back at Tomas. "...makes you wonder what the hell you're even trying to save."

Tomas gave a small nod, taking in the words that were maybe supposed to make him feel better, or maybe they were just Marcus' way of expressing the sickness of this all.

"I was wrong," Tomas said, repeating the words he said in Harper's room.

"Which bit?" Marcus asked pointedly and Tomas took in a ragged breath, reminded of the fact that there were many points in the last few days they butted heads over. Right now though, there was one point that bothered him the most, because if he was wrong in this, everything else he thought he knew was questionable. It meant he might be compromised.

"My vision," he said softly, feeling the guilt spreading from his stomach through his whole body. "If we had gone through with the exorcism," he looked at Harper's hospital room then swallowed down the lump in his throat. "That girl would've died." The words left his lips and Tomas looked into Marcus' eyes, hoping to see some kind of denial, but relieved when he got the truth instead.

"More than likely," Marcus agreed gently, unsure how to soften the blow or if he even wanted to. Tomas needed to hear the truth, to accept it. His actions had consequences and the sooner he realized that, the better the chance he won't kill someone. Marcus had learned that lesson hard, on his own skin. Tomas was so far lucky. Harper was alive and on the road to recovery. Gabriel in Mexico wasn't.

Tomas shook his head, eyes glistening from unshed tears. Marcus could see he was trying to come to some conclusion and he was really hoping it wasn't the wrong one. Despite their differences, he liked the fact he had company; that he wasn't doing this alone. He wasn't sure he had the will to continue doing this job without Tomas. It was enough that God seemed to abandon him... he couldn't handle Tomas doing the same. There was just too much at stake. Biting his lip, Marcus waited for Tomas to decide.

"I'm not ready to do this on my own," Tomas finally spoke, looking up, his eyes filled with emotion and Marcus almost felt his knees give out from relief that was quickly followed by a rush of giddiness.

"Good thing I'm in it, then," he said, popping a candy into his mouth and giving Tomas a reassuring smirk.

They left the hospital soon after, leaving Rose their number in case Harper needed anything. Tomas felt guilt and shame over what happened. Especially as Rose was now looking at him and Marcus as if they saved Harper, even though Tomas knew he almost got her killed. He wished to be as far away as possible, but Marcus made it clear that he wanted to talk to Harper once she was awake and the drugs were out of her system. He wanted to make sure that she got the message and that she knew there were people who trusted her and who were willing to help. Marcus was through too much himself to know how damaging these kinds of situations could be.

"So we're staying in town?" Tomas asked as they settled in their car and Marcus drove out of the hospital parking lot.

"Not exactly in town, but close by," Marcus said, already thinking of a place they could stay at. "When I spoke to father Lance after his chat with the cops he gave me an address to a motel. We can pay cash, no questions asked."

Tomas grimaced at the fact they even needed to think about such things. It wasn't like they were on the run from the police... despite the fact Marcus killed that demon possessed man, saving the cardinal's life, the police didn't know who they should be looking for. For some strange reason, there was no useful footage of the incident and most people didn't have the time to notice what happened. They were too busy trying to block out the horrible sound ringing through their head, clouding their minds. No, the police wasn't the problem. The only one looking for Marcus Keane and possibly now also for Tomas himself was the church. That didn't make their situation any safer though, not when the church was so deeply compromised.

"This whole thing is just crazy," Tomas muttered, earning a concerned look from Marcus.

"What?"

"Us. Doing this, running from the church. I just... I never imagined this kind of life."

"Are you changing your mind about it?" Marcus asked seemingly lightly, but Tomas noticed the knuckles of his hand clutching the wheel turned white.

"No," Tomas said, surprised by his own answer, but realizing he meant it from the heart. "I'm not. I might regret the way we have to do this, but..." he looked at Marcus, then at the cross that was hanging on the inside mirror. "I believe God led us here for a reason."

He was expecting a snort, some kind of protest, but Marcus just kept watching the road, thinking.

"We shall see," he spoke after a long moment and Tomas leaned back into his seat, hoping he was right. He wasn't sure he could handle the alternative.

TBC


	3. Episode 3 - part 2

_**A/N** : Part 3 of the story, still _stuck on _episode 3. More notes on the end. I hope you'll enjoy._

* * *

By the time they reached the motel, Tomas was lightly dozing on the passenger seat. Marcus wasn't planning to wake him before they got a key, but turning off the engine was incentive enough. Tomas blinked and looked around with some confusion. It was late at night and there were only few street lamps lighting the road and the unfamiliar building.

"What's going on?" he asked sleepily and Marcus wondered if he was confused from waking up or if it was because of the concussion.

"At the motel. You okay?"

"Yeah, sure," came the answer even as Tomas winced and reached for the door. "Want me to get a room?"

During their six month journey it was usually Tomas who took care of the motel, the collar often bringing a warmer reaction and fewer questions.

"No, I'll take care of that. Stay in the car."

"Why?" Tomas paused, the confusion showing on his face and Marcus rolled his eyes.

"There's still blood on your face," he explained, pointing at his own face. "Right now, my tired old mug looks less suspicious than your bruised one."

"Oh," Tomas gingerly touched his face and felt the flakes of dried blood on his skin and hair. "You might be right on this one," he admitted, receiving a snort in reply as Marcus left the car.

Five minutes later they were both inside a warm apartment.

"We have our own kitchen, fantastic." Marcus stated and went to look inside the fridge. It was of course empty except for some bottled water, but there was also a stove and a microwave. "I can cook us some breakfast in the morning."

"As long as you get to buy the eggs," Tomas muttered, looking around. Once again they had to share a room with two beds, though there was also a comfortably looking couch in the living room. While usually Tomas didn't mind sharing a room, he had a feeling tonight would be anything but peaceful for him. Maybe he could just fall asleep on the couch and let Marcus have a quiet night. As if reading his mind though, Marcus headed right for the couch and flopped down on it, bones creaking and all, not leaving much space to share.

"Think I'll grab a shower and lie down," Tomas said with a sigh, heading towards the bathroom, when Marcus' voice stopped him.

"No shower!"

"What?" Tomas turned around, a little bit miffed. "You wanna go first?" he asked with a confused frown, only to get another eye roll. Man, if Marcus continued with the eye rolling Tomas would get dizzy just from that.

"No, you idiot. The doctor super glued the wound on your head... you're not supposed to shower a few days. Or at least not get the wound wet." Because not showering a few days in their type of work and living in close quarters with another bloke was quite out of the question.

"Oh. I forgot," Tomas admitted, then frowned. "I doubt the doctor used Superglue though."

Marcus shrugged the smirk back on his face.

"They used it in the war, so who knows." Marcus stood up, stretching his back then headed towards the door. "Just wash up and go to bed, I'll wake you in few hours, to make sure your brain isn't leaking."

Tomas wanted to answer 'Yes, father,' just because it seemed so ridiculous getting ordered to bed, but thought better of it. That would open a whole new can of worms.

"Where are you going?"

"We haven't eaten the whole day, if I don't count that junk food in the hospital. There's a 24/7 around the corner, I'll grab us something to eat. Anything you'd like?"

The thought of food slightly turned Tomas' stomach, so he grimaced and shook his head.

"I'll pass, thanks. Maybe tomorrow."

Judging from Marcus look, the 'maybe' tomorrow was not going to be accepted. Shrugging it off, Tomas walked to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror just as the front door closed shut, so Marcus didn't hear the muttered swear when Tomas got a first good look at himself. Now he understood why Marcus didn't want him to go to the front desk. The bruise looked vile and the dried up blood didn't help. He was lucky that hammer didn't do more damage. The doctor told him the same that being mid motion might've saved him. Though if this was just a glancing blow, Tomas really didn't want to think about how taking a full blow to the skull would look like. He grabbed some paper tissues and turned on the sink, rubbing the blood off as gently as possible, wincing at every touch. Finally looking a little less like a victim of a robbery gone bad, Tomas cleaned up the sink. He was about to throw the dirty tissues into the trash, when his head started spinning and he had to lean against the wall for support.

Taking several deep breaths, trying to push back the sudden nausea, Tomas slowly slid down the wall, eternally grateful that the bathroom was properly cleaned. Closing his eyes proved to be a mistake though as all he could see was the glint of the hammer heading his way and there was a ringing sound in his ears eerily reminiscent of Harper's screams. Tomas pushed his fists against his eyes, trying to push back the images that assaulted him. His head felt like it was going to explode. All he wished for right now was to get into bed and get some sleep, but he really didn't think he could make it there without throwing up. So he let his aching head rest on his knees and tried hard to think about anything else but the last 24 hours.

He must've fallen into a light doze, because he didn't hear the rattling of the keys in the door, or Marcus putting down the groceries. What he heard was a rustle of clothes dangerously close and the swish of air as the door opened...

"No-" Tomas jerked, pushing his back against the wall, eyes wide and disoriented.

"Tomas?" Marcus spoke, his voice as soft as if he was back in the house, talking to Harper. He was leaning down, the place too cramped to allow him better access to the young priest, but he still managed to put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it lightly. "It's me, Marcus." There was worry in his eyes and Tomas felt stupidly guilty for being the cause of it. He seemed to feel guilty for a lot of things lately.

"Sorry," slipped out of his mouth, but it seemed to only make Marcus frown more.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine," Tomas quickly said, still trying to calm down his wildly beating heart. "Sorry for... I didn't hear you return."

"Maybe we should get your hearing checked out as well," Marcus said with a small grin, but it quickly vanished.

"Why are you on the bathroom floor, Tomas?"

Tomas looked around, hoping to come up with a totally natural answer, but there was nothing. His brain was mush and he was just happy to see Marcus.

"I just... felt like it?" he said with a grimace and earned a sigh.

"Do you perhaps feel like getting up now?" Marcus asked, offering his hand. Tomas grabbed it shakily and with Marcus' help managed to stand up. The room once again went on a merry ride and he felt himself leaning against the older man, worrying that they would both fall, but Marcus was steady as a rock. Tomas thought he should tell him that and so he did. Marcus chuckled, the action causing Tomas to sway a bit.

"Okay, you are definitely off your rocker," Marcus said with a sigh and wrapped his arm around Tomas' waist, helping him toward the bedroom. Tomas was quickly deposited on one of the twin beds. The motion made him clench his teeth and groan in discomfort.

"If you feel sick, tell me. I'd rather bring you a bucket than clean up vomit."

Tomas mustered up enough strength to glare at the older man, who just raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Well?"

"I'm good, thanks," Tomas uttered, hoping he won't regret it later. Once he was lying on the bed, unmoving, the spinning lessened, but he still felt queasy. He winced a bit when he felt the bed dip and opened his eyes, only to be met by a studious look.

"Did you lose consciousness while I was gone?" Marcus asked, his voice lower than usual, as if knowing that any loud sound was currently making Tomas wish for a quick and easy death.

"No. I just got dizzy... that's all. Thought sitting it out would help."

"Good. I won't have to call an ambulance then," Marcus said, suddenly sounding chipper. "Here, take this," he handled Tomas the pills they got at the hospital and some water. Once Tomas dutifully sipped it down, he leaned back and hoped his stomach won't rebel.

"Thanks," he muttered, eyes already slipping closed. He heard a soft 'You're welcome', then felt Marcus standing. His boots were removed and a blanket was thrown over him, but Tomas was already out.

Marcus wasn't really planning to sleep. Finding Tomas on the bathroom floor gave him a scare he didn't wish to repeat and the confused state of the young priest made him worry, even though the doctor warned them about it. So after whipping up some quick dinner for one, Marcus settled on his bed and pulled out a sketchpad he used for his drawings. Maybe putting some of the images on paper would stop them from haunting him during the night.

Sketching helped him focus, to put his thoughts in order. He wished for the relaxing sound of his cassette player, but knew Tomas wouldn't appreciate it right now. Maybe if he felt better tomorrow Marcus could use it as kind of a payback for being a smartass earlier. With that thought in mind, Marcus let the pencil slip from his fingers as his head fell back on the comfy pillow.

The nightmare was expected, but it hurt nevertheless. Standing in his old house and watching his parents argue was something Marcus was used to seeing. It was one of his usual nightmares, always ending the same way... with his mother lying dead on the floor, her head bloodied and squishy. Marcus still remembered seeing the broken pieces of skull protruding from the wound and the grayish mush of the brain matter peeking out. In the dream he was still a seven year old kid, watching as his father took the hammer and bashed his mom's head in. He was the seven year old kid reaching for the poaching rifle and shooting his father dead before he could do him in as well. Most nights the nightmare didn't end there. Most nights, the gruesome scene with both of his parents dead turned into any of the other scenes from his past. He was back at the orphanage, back in the catacombs with only the demon for company. He was back in Mexico trying futilely to save Gabriel. Nowadays there was also the nightmare of a possessed Casey Rance staring at him with a double pupil in her eye.

Tonight though the dream went different. Tonight, instead of his mother lying on the floor with her head bashed in it was Tomas, and instead of Lorraine it was Marcus' mother holding the hammer. His father was standing next to Marcus, arms crossed on his chest and a sick smile on his face as he turned to the stunned seven year old.

"See? I knew she was a bad seed. You should have just let me kill her." With a shrug of his shoulders the man turned back to the scene, looking on as his wife used the hammer to beat Tomas into an unrecognizable pulp.

Marcus wanted to scream, to stop the woman he couldn't even recognize anymore, but he was frozen in place. All he could do was stare with his mouth open in silent scream as the scene went on and on. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, something in the corner of his eyes moved and he saw Harper walking slowly towards the rifle on the wall. As she took it off the wall and checked if there were bullets inside, she spotted Marcus looking at her. With an impish grin, she put a finger to her mouth in a universal gesture of silence.

"You took care of mine, I'll take care of yours," she mouthed and pulled the trigger.

Marcus woke up with a gasp, the sketchpad falling from the bed with a thunk. His heart was beating fast and his ears were still ringing from the sound of the shot he heard as Harper fired the rifle.

"Holy hell," he muttered half breathless and sat up, looking towards the other bed. Tomas was still asleep but judging from the grimace on his face and faster breathing he was in the grips of a nightmare as well.

Marcus rubbed at his eyes, trying to push away the images from the nightmare. Seeing Tomas alive and albeit bruised but with his skull still in one piece was a relief. Being able to speak with him would be even better, but Marcus was still too shook up to face a possible conversation in the middle of the night. Still, Tomas seemed to be fighting some sort of nightmare himself. When he winced in his sleep and a small whimper escaped him, Marcus couldn't stop his hand from reaching out. Resting his palm on Tomas' chest he was surprised to feel how wildly his heart was beating.

"Hush," Marcus soothed as Tomas reacted to the touch. "It's okay, it's just a dream." He knew that what he was doing was illogical. After all, Tomas wasn't a child in need of soothing. He was an adult man having a nightmare and the best thing would be to wake him up or let him work it out himself. But after his own nightmare, Marcus needed some reassurance that none of that was real and feeling the heart beating under the palm of his hand was reassuring enough. Tomas also seemed to sense his presence, because he was starting to calm down. It seemed like he and Tomas shared more than just their faith in God. Although the young priest surely didn't have such a turbulent childhood as Marcus, he wasn't immune to nightmares either.

Marcus waited until the heartbeat slowed down marginally then pulled away his hand as if burned. After everything that happened, he should try and keep his distance, keep a cool head so to speak. But it seemed that he was doing quite the opposite. With a shake of his head, he headed into the bathroom. He could feel the sweaty shirt sticking to his skin. The cut on his arm was stinging like hell too. While he wasn't about to turn on the shower in the middle of the night, throwing some cold water on his face and changing shirts sounded just about heavenly.

When he left the bedroom, Tomas looked to be sleeping almost peacefully. When Marcus returned five minutes later it was a whole different picture. Tomas was either back in the throes of a nightmare or he was having some kind of a fit, because he was trashing like mad and groaning as if in pain. Marcus cursed his previous decision not to wake him up and rushed across the room, worried that with all that trashing his protégé would end up on the floor.

Grabbing Tomas' face in both hands, Marcus gently slapped his face.

"Hey, wake up! Tomas? It's just a nightmare. Come on, wake up!" Marcus repeated several times until the brown eyes opened, unfocused and hazy but still a welcome sight. For a second Marcus thought he would see only the whites of the priest's eyes as happened earlier in the hospital when Tomas connected with the demon in Cindy. That blind look still gave him the creeps.

"Harper?" Tomas asked, blinking and looking around searchingly. Marcus could feel his pulse beating hard under his fingers.

"She's okay. Calm down, it was just a nightmare," he said but Tomas still seemed disoriented, caught in some dream. His eyes roamed across the room then finally settled on Marcus. Brown eyes focused on the familiar face as Tomas grabbed one of the hands still holding his face.

"Marcus," he sighed and some of the tension left his body.

"The one and only," Marcus quipped with a smirk, hoping to calm the man even further. "You back with me?"

"Si," Tomas gave a shaky nod and Marcus finally let go of his face, though Tomas still kept his hold on the older man's hand, using it as an anchor.

They sat there for a minute in total silence, unmoving. It was Marcus who gave a gentle pat to Tomas' chest and gave him an inquiring look.

"Are you alright now?"

"Y-yeah, fine," Tomas answered and as if just now realizing he was still holding Marcus' hand as a prisoner, he let go. A little bit shaky, but he managed to sit up without any help and Marcus stepped back, giving him some space.

"What's the time?" Tomas asked, rubbing at his eyes then wincing from pain as he managed to hit the bruise on his head.

"3:20 am."

"Damn," Tomas looked up with a grimace that quickly turned into an apologetic look. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up."

Marcus didn't comment. He just stood back, giving Tomas the look.

"What?" Tomas asked, perturbed.

"What was the nightmare about?"

Tomas looked at Marcus and his teeth clenched.

"I need to use the bathroom," he said after a few seconds, ignoring the question. Marcus watched him go, relieved to see he didn't wobble. While Tomas freshened up, Marcus picked up his forgotten sketchbook and pencil lying on the floor and looked at his drawing of Harper. She looked healthy and dare say even happy on the picture and Marcus wished to get a chance and see her that way. Maybe in few days, when the drugs are out of her system and she'll be on her way to the new family, maybe he'll see that smile on her face. For now he made sure the picture was safely tucked away in his suitcase.

TBC

A/N2: Sorry for cutting it off in such a weird place, but the scene will continue in the next chapter and I thought it would be too long. I should post in a few days, if anyone will be interested in reading more. Cheers:)


	4. Episode 3 - part 3

_**A/N:** I want to thank Starrylizard for a quick beta. Any and all mistakes left are my own:) I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter._

* * *

Marcus heard the door to the bathroom open, but Tomas didn't reappear in the bedroom. Instead there were sounds of clinking coming from the kitchen. Frowning in puzzlement, Marcus followed the sounds, only to find Tomas rummaging through the cupboards and putting on a kettle.

Marcus leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, looking on, perplexed.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked after a moment, just as Tomas found what he was looking for.

"Coffee. You want some too?"

"At 3 in the morning?"

"It's almost four. I usually go for a run by five," Tomas answered, holding out an empty cup questioningly. Seeing the look of reproach on Marcus' face, he just shrugged and focused on filling his own cup.

"You slept for barely three hours and you are concussed. I don't think coffee and running is on your itinerary today," Marcus said, pushing himself away from the door. He crossed the space between them and pulled the cup of coffee away from Tomas.

"What're you doing?" Tomas asked, flabbergasted and Marcus rolled his eyes before pouring the coffee down the drain.

"Hey!"

"Get a tea, for all I care. But I won't have you running around sleep deprived and hopped on caffeine."

"What on earth are you talking about? I've slept all night."

"Oh please," Marcus snorted at the ridiculous statement. "It is _still_ the middle of the night."

"Then go back to sleep and leave me the hell alone!" Tomas hissed and Marcus paused, only now noticing the slight shaking of the younger man's hands and the scrunched up forehead.

He stayed silent, only his eyebrows rising in a mute challenge. Tomas looked at him, his own eyes clouded with shame and something that was very similar to fear. Finally he forced out a breath and shook his head.

"I'm sorry. That was... uncalled for."

"What are you afraid of seeing when you close your eyes, Tomas?" Marcus asked, his voice soft but the words clear and loud like a bullet piercing the air.

"I'm not-" afraid, Tomas wanted to say, but realized it would be a lie. On suddenly shaky legs he made it to the couch and sat down, burying his head in his arms. Marcus sat down next to him, waiting in silence.

After a moment, Tomas muttered something but Marcus didn't understand.

"What was that?"

"I'm afraid that I won't recognize the truth," Tomas repeated, straightening from his hunched position. "I'm afraid I'll be wrong again and someone will get killed."

"You can't afford to trust these visions unreservedly," Marcus said in agreement.

"But I can't afford to ignore them either," Tomas protested. "Whatever your opinion on that, the visions led me to you." Tomas paused, maybe waiting for Marcus to once again say that was a mistake, but Marcus just looked him straight in the eyes, unblinking. A little bit appeased, Tomas continued.

"They helped us save the Rance family and Cindy as well. I don't know why I was wrong with Harper, maybe..." Tomas shook his head, frustrated. "Maybe I just interpreted the vision wrong."

"Or maybe it didn't come from God." Marcus spoke softly and Tomas grit his teeth in frustration.

"Don't you see, Marcus? I have to... I need to believe these visions are from Him. The alternative..." Tomas' voice broke and Marcus knew what he meant to say but couldn't. So he said it for him.

"The alternative is that you're being manipulated by something much darker."

"I can't stop them, Marcus." And wasn't that the biggest problem? "If these visions aren't from God, then I'm compromised. I don't know how to deal with that." There was such anguish in his voice that Marcus had to reach out and give Tomas' shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"We'll figure it out, Tomas."

'God might've abandoned me, but I won't do the same to you,' Marcus thought silently.

"Did you have a vision tonight, or was it just a nightmare?" he asked instead.

Tomas sighed and shrugged.

"I'm not sure anymore," he admitted. "Right now, my thoughts are all over the place. I saw Cindy's Church, then the girl without a face..." Tomas frowned, thinking about the dream and looking frustrated. "I can't put my finger on it. I was sure that girl was Harper, but now... I don't think it's her. And when I had the vision from Cindy, there was this woman rising from the mud... I don't recognize her either. It's like..." Tomas huffed, shaking his head then looking up at Marcus frustrated. "It's like pieces from several different puzzles got all mixed up. It's driving me mad, not knowing what the final picture is supposed to look like."

"There's no guarantee you'll ever get the whole picture, Tomas. God works-"

"-in mysterious ways, I know," Tomas finished the sentence, glad that Marcus didn't use the opportunity for another lecture. He wasn't sure he could take it right now. They sat in amenable silence for a while and Tomas's eyes started to close of their own volition. A fleeting image of a terrified Harper appeared in front of his eyes and Tomas's eyes snapped open, his body all tense.

Marcus was watching him closely, hoping he might fall asleep. Seeing his reaction though he realized it wouldn't be that easy, so he changed tactics.

"Ever since we met, I was wondering," Marcus started and Tomas looked up, curious. "How can you tell the difference between a dream and a vision? I know it's different when you... connect. But when you sleep?"

Tomas noted the pause, but decided to ignore it in favor of answering the real question.

"It just... feels different. More real." Biting his lip, Tomas gave a frustrated shake of head. "It's hard to explain."

"Please, humor me," Marcus said with a grin and made himself more comfortable on the couch, reminding Tomas of a cat. Yet where a cat would ignore him, Tomas had all of the man's attention focused directly on him. Strangely, what would otherwise make him feel self-conscious and nervous, now just made him feel a little bit safer and less shaky.

"When I saw you, in Mexico... I felt everything. The smell of that stuffy room, the rotting meat, felt the sweltering heat. All my senses worked and I could see every detail..." Tomas spoke, his accent getting thicker, breathing faster. Marcus tensed, not wanting to be reminded of his failings, not so soon after emerging from his own nightmares. He put a hand on Tomas's arm, pulling him back to reality. Tomas blinked and looked at him, his face paler than before.

"S-sorry. I didn't think this through."

"It's okay. Go on."

"I was just trying to say... nightmares are different. They're more distorted; I can't really control what I am doing in them." And that was it, Tomas realized. "In visions I'm in full control of myself. It's like... in dreams, you're watching a movie. In visions, you're more of a director, but the only thing you can direct is yourself."

Tomas was quiet for a moment, thinking about his answer.

"Is there a difference when you wake up?"

"What do you mean?"

Marcus shrugged.

"I don't know, you tell me. Do you feel different when you wake up from a vision instead of a dream?"

It was Tomas' turn to shrug.

"I don't think so. More anxious, maybe. Depends on how bad the vision is?"

"And what about when you connect? What's the difference?"

"Why all the questions?" Tomas asked, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. It didn't help that Marcus kept looking at him as if he might sprout another head any moment.

"I just want to know what to expect," Marcus said easily. "I want to know if I can let you get behind the wheel without you zoning out. I want to know if, after a vision, you're still 100 percent and ready to do the job, or if you need to regroup." Marcus changed position and was now leaning dangerously close to Tomas, giving him an intense look. "And I really want to know what letting a demon inside your mind does to you."

Tomas froze as if hypnotized, then seemed to shake it off. He gave Marcus an unconvincing smile then stood up.

"It does nothing to me. I'm fine. Well, except for the splitting headache, but... that's the hammer." Tomas rubbed the bridge of his nose and faked a yawn. "Think I'll try and go back to sleep." He started towards the room but Marcus grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. Normally Tomas would've just pulled away and gone to bed, but his head was already spinning and the sudden pull unbalanced him. He staggered and would've fallen but Marcus maneuvered him back down to the couch.

"Sit," Marcus said commandingly, though unnecessarily. Tomas was already sitting; eyes clenched shut in an attempt to stave off the nausea. With a groan, he leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.

"Sorry for that," Marcus muttered, one hand running soothingly over Tomas's neck. "Just wanted us to finish the conversation, but hadn't thought it through."

"Think I'm about finished," Tomas mumbled pitifully and heard Marcus chuckle.

"Far from it my lad. You're just a bit beaten up." With that, the hand left Tomas' neck, which he noted with some disappointment. It was helping him to stay grounded. Without the connection the world just became a dizzy mess. Opening his eyes didn't help either and when Marcus moved away it was Tomas who grabbed at him, trying to center himself.

"Tomas? You alright?" A worried glance and a finger lifting up his chin and Tomas could only swallow in reply. Marcus realized the problem and put a steadying hand on Tomas' shoulder, giving him a minute.

"Deep, slow breaths should help," he said and Tomas tried.

"Hey, I said slow breaths, not to stop breathing altogether," Marcus reproached, earning a snort in reply and a whooshing sound of air.

"You're bossy," Tomas muttered after a moment and Marcus chuckled.

"As long as it works. Okay, why don't you lie back on the couch? Until you get back your sea legs."

"I don't think moving is advisable," Tomas protested but Marcus was already pushing him down. Tomas wasn't really in a position to do anything about it. His balance was shot to hell and in the end he was glad to be lying down, blessedly still.

"I'll remember this next time you get drunk," he muttered without much strength, getting an amused chuckle.

"I doubt you'll remember it in the morning," Marcus replied cheekily. Tomas felt too tired to argue the point, he was right anyway.

Marcus started rummaging through the kitchen just as Tomas had done earlier. Tomas wanted to look at what he was doing, or at least ask him to stop moving around so much because it was making his headache worse. That, however, would require moving from the comfortable position on the couch and risk further upset to his stomach. Knowing that curiosity killed the cat, Tomas instead tried to focus on the furniture of the motel, looking at the cracks on the table.

"I doubt you're hungry, but you should eat something before taking the meds." Marcus was back and the reason for his previous movement was clear. He was holding a plate of toast and cheese in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Tomas frowned at the idea of food.

"I'll pass thanks."

Marcus shrugged and put the plate and the glass on the table, within Tomas' reach. Two pills appeared a minute later.

"Do you feel like chatting or you want to try and sleep?"

Frankly, none of the options sounded so good to Tomas. He wasn't planning on sleeping anytime soon, not if he had anything to say about it. While he knew he and Marcus needed to clear some things up and all the questions he asked were valid in their current situation, Tomas didn't feel up to answering them. Mostly because some of the answers scared him as well.

"What about neither?" Tomas finally spoke and looked pleadingly at Marcus to let it go. Marcus raised an eyebrow at the look then made himself comfortable in the rather uncomfortable looking chair, facing Tomas.

"Why, do you have anything better on your mind, Tomas?"

Tomas groaned and said several choice words in Spanish, earning another chuckle.

"Ah, tsk, tsk, Tomas," Marcus shook his head in amusement. "I've been called much worse in the first grade of school."

"Somehow I doubt you let it slide then," Tomas retorted and turned to lie on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

"Well, I was a scrawny kid back then," Marcus admitted, "but I quickly learned how to throw punches. So yeah, Billy Dickens really regretted learning those words from his older brother." Marcus remembered the short-lived feeling of victory when he managed to tackle the kid that was a head taller than him to the ground. He could still feel the sensation of his knuckles hitting Billy straight in the nose and seeing the impressed looks of the other kids. For a minute, Marcus felt really strong and fearless. That was until he got home and found out that the school called his parents. The hiding he got still made him cringe.

"When I got home I regretted throwing that punch even more," Marcus said softly and Tomas wanted to say how sorry he was, for bringing up the memory, for the fact Marcus had such a shitty childhood, for everything. But instead he bit his lip, because he knew Marcus wouldn't appreciate the sentiment, not now.

"What about you, Tomas?" Marcus spoke suddenly, trying to think about anything but his own past.

"Me?"

"Yes. We're on the road for more than six months and I still don't know whether you were a geek or a rebel at school."

This time it was Tomas that raised an eyebrow.

"Are you asking me if I was acting out at school?"

"Well, you refuse to talk about your 'gift', so yeah. I'd like to learn more about you."

"I don't refuse to talk about 'it', just... not now." Tomas swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and gave Marcus a pleading look. The older man sighed.

"So, were you a school president or were you a heartbreaker?"

Tomas had to chuckle at the options.

"I think... none?"

"Now that's hard to believe," Marcus said with a grin and Tomas gave a small shrug.

"I mostly kept to my studies. Had to keep good grades so I could get into the seminary. Though I loved to play soccer."

"When did you know you wanted to become a priest?" Marcus asked with a frown.

"I'm not sure..." Tomas said, his brow furrowed. "I think Abuelita was telling me about it ever since I went to live with her. You know how important faith is to us Mexicans," Tomas gave a slight shrug and a smile.

"How old were you when you were sent to Mexico?"

"Six. Our parents just divorced and mom couldn't take care of both Olivia and me. Abuelita offered to take care of me instead."

"That must've been though," Marcus said, his voice soft."To leave your sister and mother at such a young age." Marcus knew how hard it was to have your life ripped away from you at such a tender age. He still had the scars that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, never mind Tomas.

"It wasn't bad," Tomas said, for a second catching the glimpse of a lost boy in Marcus' eyes and wishing to chase it away. "I got to talk with them every week on the phone and Olivia used to spend her summer holidays in Mexico with me and Abuelita. It was... it was the best mom could do."

"Did you ever ask why it was you she sent you away?" Marcus knew he shouldn't ask, shouldn't stir up the pot, but he wanted to know. Wanted to make sure that Tomas knew the reasoning.

"Oh, I asked that a lot of times." Tomas chuckled and Marcus was glad to hear no contempt in the sound, only amusement. "I was six, so you can imagine. I swear the first month I made Abuelita absolutely crazy with all my questions."

"What, you being annoying? I can't even imagine," Marcus quipped, earning a lighthearted glare.

"Mom didn't have a lot of money. She already worked two jobs when our father just up and left her. I still had a year 'til school and Olivia was already enrolled. There was no one to stay at home with me. For a while mom tried, but... it was hard and we were often without food, all the money going to rent." Tomas shrugged at the old history. He seemed to already have made his peace with it and Marcus was happy for that.

"She got sick one day and couldn't get to work for several days. She called Abuelita for help and she came. When she saw how we were living... she offered to take me in."

"Why didn't she take Olivia too?"

"Mom wouldn't let her, really. And Olivia didn't want to leave Chicago either. She had her friends there, school. And I've always had a suspicion that Abuelita took me in so she could raise me as a proper Christian," Tomas said with a fond smile."Something about growing up to be a better man than my father could ever be."

"Well, you might not become the next Mexican Pope, but I'm pretty sure you're already a better man than your father ever was," Marcus said and Tomas turned his head to look at him, taken aback by the statement.

"You really think that?" There was surprise in his voice and Marcus frowned at the question, giving a slight nod.

"Even after what happened with Harper?"

Marcus sighed and shook his head, his eyes fixed on Tomas.

"You acted brashly," Marcus admitted. "...and it could've had deadly repercussions, I'll admit that. But..." Marcus made sure he had Tomas' full attention, before he continued. "You did what you thought was right. In the end, we got her out of the house, which is the most important thing. I might've felt like whacking you over the head once or twice myself in the process, but I would've used rolled up newspaper instead," he finished with a grin and Tomas snorted, closing his eyes momentarily as the sound reverberated through his skull.

"I'd have preferred the newspaper, it would've definitely hurt less," he admitted sheepishly and Marcus chuckled.

"I'm hoping next time you will trust my gut instinct more than some nightmare." The levity was gone as quickly as it came and Tomas grimaced.

"It was a vision... and it told me that Harper needed help. At least, that's what I thought."

"And what are you thinking now, Tomas?"

If that wasn't the million-dollar question.

"Why would some demon want me there? We saved Harper... what good is that to a demon?"

"You think the vision came from God? Why would He want you to exorcise Harper?"

There was logic hidden in the design, logic Tomas was trying to figure out but it was early morning and his mind didn't work right yet. Marcus took pity on him.

"How would you have felt if we did the exorcism and it caused irreparable damage to Harper? You are already feeling guilty... how do you think you would've felt if she'd died because you listened to your vision?"

'How do you think I feel every time I think about Gabriel?' Marcus thought to himself.

Tomas looked at Marcus, his eyes suddenly misty and full of pain and doubt.

"That... didn't happen."

"No, it didn't. We were lucky. But we might not be lucky next time, Tomas. You need to be wary of the visions and letting demons inside your head," Marcus said, internally cringing at how much this sounded like a lecture. Seeing the stricken look on the younger man's face, he just had to ease the mood a bit.

"Besides, I'd hate to be looking for a new exorcist to train. Got quite used to your quirks and strange fitness habits."

"Going for a run at five in the morning isn't that strange," Tomas protested half-heartedly, but felt relieved that Marcus wasn't about to up and leave in search of a new partner. "And you're one to speak about strange habits... drawing birds in your bible and breaking into apartments."

"You're just jealous that I can pick a lock so effortlessly." Marcus snorted with a shit eating grin and Tomas relaxed back on the couch.

"As if that is something to be proud of."

"You never know when you'll need to break through some doors," Marcus noted. "I was already planning to teach you lock picking, we can start after we get some good sleep."

"So like... not in the near future?" Tomas thought he might never sleep well again, though maybe it was just the concussion speaking.

"Smart-ass. I'll teach you tomorrow."

"Can't wait," Tomas muttered, unsure how that lesson would go. "Where did you even learn how to pick a lock?"

"One can learn a lot of things in a home for boys," Marcus said as he remembered the incident that led him to learn this particular skill. It was one of the more innocent ones and a soft smile played on his lips.

"Pray tell," Tomas asked, barely holding in a yawn. Marcus noted his drooping eyes and with a shrug started recalling the story of how he and another boy got locked in a room during a midnight raid on the pantry and how he got his first lesson in lock picking. By the time he finished, Tomas was breathing softly, eyes closed and face relaxed. Marcus looked at him fondly, holding in a chuckle at the fact he just essentially put one Father Tomas Ortega to sleep with a bedtime story. Getting out of the chair, he stretched and winced when he heard several bones pop, but Tomas didn't notice. Marcus went into their room and grabbed a blanket, then threw it over the sleeping form on the couch. Looking out the window and seeing it was still dark outside, he decided that maybe getting more sleep wasn't such a bad idea after all.

TBC


	5. Episode 3 - part 4

They spent the next two days recuperating, so to speak. Tomas was taking it easy the first day, spending most of the time flat on his back due to his headache and the fact that any faster movement made him dizzy. Marcus made himself busy with cooking and annoying Tomas every time he looked to be too lost in his catholic guilt. By the afternoon though not even Marcus's good-natured ribbing could get Tomas out of his self-imposed funk.

"I told you, I'm not hungry," Tomas said grumpily and pushed away the plate Marcus put before him.

"Okay, I give up!" Marcus said, throwing his arms up dramatically. "You're impossible when you feel sick. It's all 'I don't need this, Marcus' 'I'm fine, I just thought I'd rather lie down on the floor than the couch' or 'I don't need to eat, I live on air'," Marcus said in his best imitation of Tomas' voice, adding air quotes for emphasis. "I try to be nice and this is the thanks I get," Marcus grumbled, ignoring the stunned look on Tomas's face. That is, until he heard the strange sound coming from the priest. Looking up, worried that his outburst might've had a rather more negative effect that he planned, Marcus was surprised to see the smile on Tomas' face. That strange sound changed into a full blown chuckle and suddenly the tension of the last two days vanished.

Marcus stopped his grumbling, hands on hips in a pose of an angry wife, yet there was a smile tugging at his lips. Still, he forced his features to look stern, although there was no hiding the spark in his eyes.

"Oh, and now you're laughing at me. Nice. See if I ever make you lunch again, Tomas."

At that Tomas snorted, then rubbed the tears from his eyes, muttering something.

"What's that?"

"Your imitation of me is awful."

"Really? That's all you took from it?"

Tomas shook his head, still smiling.

"First off, I don't have a British accent."

"Oh, and what's the second?" Marcus asked, eyebrows raised and arms crossed on his chest.

"You bought this pizza across the road. Hardly the epitome of cooking," Tomas added cheekily.

"I still had to bring it in and put it on the plate, so the least you can do is taste it," Marcus said with an imploring look.

As if to humor him, Tomas reached for the plate and took a careful bite of the pizza. He chewed it slowly while Marcus sat down next to him with his own plate and a bottle of beer. Tomas looked at the beer inquiringly.

"No beer for me?"

"Please," Marcus snorted. "You barely drink beer as it is. Definitely not giving you one when you're taking painkillers. How's my cooking?"

"Tastes like cardboard," Tomas answered truthfully. "But I'm sure the Chinese you'll bring for dinner will be an improvement," he added with a grin, earning a look of contempt.

"As if-" Whatever Marcus planned to reply was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.

"It's Rose," Marcus said when he saw the number and picked up the phone. Tomas put the pizza down, his barely existing appetite all gone. He listened to the one sided conversation, his stomach in knots with fear that Harper might've taken a turn for the worse. Marcus' face and answers didn't give him anything to go on so he had to wait until the call finished.

"Well?" he prompted after Marcus put away the phone and took a swig of his beer.

"What? Oh, are you curious about the phone call?" he asked in mock surprise, his eyes sparkling and Tomas fought the urge to smack him. Unsuccessfully.

"Ow!" Marcus yelped, rubbing at his shoulder dramatically then wincing for real as the movement pulled on the cut on his arm. "Watch the arm."

"I hit you on the other arm," Tomas protested, though he looked to be sorry. "Shouldn't you change that bandage anyway?"

Marcus rolled his eyes.

"And here I thought you'd like to know what the call was about."

"One doesn't exclude the other," Tomas protested. "How is Harper doing?"

Marcus looked at Tomas seriously, then a small grin broke through his facade.

"She woke up earlier today... kept asking for us. Rose said the doctors think they could release her in just a few days."

"That's great," Tomas smiled softly, then looked away, the smile gone as quickly as it came. Marcus sighed.

"I thought you'd be happy about the news."

"I am happy that she's awake and doing better."

"Your face is saying something else."

Tomas frowned.

"Do you think it is wise for her to see us again? After what happened?"

"Seeing _us_ or do you mean see _you_?"

Tomas shrugged, a bit astonished when Marcus turned to face him and leaned back on the arm of the couch, looking at him as if he was a really interesting specimen.

"What?" Tomas snapped. That look made him nervous.

"Rose said Harper was asking for _us_. And if she wants to see _us_ , I sure as hell won't let her down." The look on Marcus face clearly said that Tomas better not disappoint her either. The two men had a short stare down before Tomas succumbed.

"When do you want to go?"

"Atta boy," Marcus slapped Tomas on the leg with a grin. "We have been invited to come tomorrow, once the visiting hours start. So you have plenty of time to get your head on straight and drop that guilty look. I'm not a fan and Harper shouldn't be on the receiving end of it either."

"You're all heart today," Tomas said with a sigh and slowly stood up, relieved when the world stayed in its place. Maybe eating something wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Where you going?"

"For the first aid kit. I might be concussed, but I didn't forget about your arm. Last thing we need is for it to get infected like the bite on my hand. I'd hate to get in a brawl with you," Tomas said, earning a confused look from Marcus.

"You okay? Cause that didn't make any sense to me."

"Ah, I might've forgot to tell you about the time when I got into a fight at a pharmacy and had to call Maria Walters to bail me out."

"What?" Marcus spluttered, almost choking on another bite of his pizza.

Tomas chuckled and used the fact that Marcus momentarily had trouble speaking to retrieve the med kit. When he returned, Marcus had put down the pizza holding his beer instead and eyeing him warily.

"You were just taking the piss with that, right?"

"I'm afraid not," Tomas said, grimacing. It wasn't one of his finest moments, never mind the fact that he was obviously pouring his heart out to someone who was trying to become integrated with a demon. Even the thought of that made him shudder.

"How come I'm just hearing about it then?"

"Truth be said, there were more important things to talk about," Tomas said a bit guardedly.

"Six months, Tomas. Really... there wasn't a moment you thought about bringing that up?"

Tomas shrugged.

"Not my finest day," he admitted and pointed towards Marcus' arm. "Mind if we take care of that?"

"Only if you tell me all about Maria Walters bailing you out. And don't leave any details out, please."

When Tomas finished his story and the cut on Marcus' arm was once again neatly bandaged, Marcus just smirked up at him.

"I told you that cactus wouldn't be enough," Marcus reminded him smugly and Tomas fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"I could hardly go to an A&E with a bite mark on my hand when my face was on the TV for a week, looking for Casey. I mean... that would be a bit hard to explain, don't you think?"

Marcus just shrugged.

"You could've said it was one of your homeless parishioners. Mistook your hand for ham," Marcus grinned, then turned a bit more sober.

"So how did you fix it?"

"What, the hand or the fact I just attacked a guy and made a total fool of myself in front of our wannabe demon initiate?" Tomas stood, cleaning up the mess from the table, his voice ripe with disgust.

"I think punching someone was the least of your problems, although I'd pay for a chance to see that. Our Saint Tomas, throwing punches," Marcus chuckled, the mirth in his eyes overriding Tomas' urge to clock him on the head.

"Now it's you who sounds like a doubting Thomas," Tomas said with a smirk. The smile slipped off Marcus's face and Tomas realized he struck a chord. He just wasn't sure what the problem was.

"Yeah well, sometimes there is reason for doubt."

"Yes, but even St. Thomas found the way and his faith in Christ, even though he needed proof first."

Marcus gave a thoughtful nod, but didn't comment. Tomas could see something was bothering the older man, but by the tense set of his shoulders and closed-off look on his face, Tomas was pretty sure Marcus wasn't ready or willing to talk about. Not yet, anyway. Leaving him to his thoughts, Tomas decided to go for a short walk. The oncoming visit to the hospital made him have his own doubts that needed to be resolved before he saw Harper.

When they arrived to the hospital next day, Harper already looked better. She was awake and quietly talking to a nurse. Marcus entered the room first and the nurse paused, a question about who he was on her lips. Tomas quickly slipped in too and the collar on his neck made the nurse reconsider. However, it was Harper and her happy shout of "Father Marcus!" that made the nurse relax and smile.

"Ah, you're the two saviors Harper has been talking about since morning," the nurse said. Marcus beamed at her, but Tomas looked sheepishly at the floor, a frozen protest on his lips.

"How are you, my duckling?" Marcus flopped down on the side of Harper's bed, and she smiled up at him happily. Marcus brushed a string of hair away from her face and she blushed, the redness of her cheeks looking much healthier than her previous paleness.

"I'm feeling better, father Marcus," she said, her voice filled with disbelief over that simple fact and Marcus had to force down the sudden surge of anger he felt towards Harper's mother.

"That's good to hear, love," he said and Tomas had to admire how calm he sounded, even though one of his hands was clenched into a fist. Tomas swallowed and looked at the nurse, wondering if she could sense the intense feeling radiating from the older man, but the nurse seemed oblivious.

"She will feel even better in a few days, as long as she makes more of an effort to eat something," the nurse chided lightly and Marcus threw her a concerned look then focused back on Harper.

"What's that I hear? Don't tell me you don't like the hospital food," Marcus said with playful disbelief and Harper chuckled at the face he made, then grimaced.

"It tastes gross," she whispered, then frowned at the nurse. Tomas had to hide the smile on his face as Marcus also gave the nurse a mocking glare.

"Now we can't leave it at that. I'm pretty sure we can get you something that'll taste just right."

"Good luck with that," the nurse muttered, knowing well enough the quality of their own food. This time Tomas coughed to cover up the chuckle. The nurse rolled her eyes and looked at her watch.

"Okay gentlemen, you have about twenty minutes to scrounge up something for our angel without me 'noticing it'. Then she'll need a bit of a rest before some tests."

The nurse left and Harper started instantly telling Marcus about the horror that was supposed to be her breakfast. Marcus looked particularly shocked and started coming up with better alternatives. While they were chatting away, Tomas slowly made his way across the room, feeling more awkward than ever. He knew he should be happy to see Harper feeling better, but every time he looked at her all he saw were her sunken cheeks, the bruises on her face and an accusing look. Even though the last one was just his imagination, it caused Tomas to keep well away from the girl, happy that at least Marcus didn't have to struggle with guilt and could offer some genuine help.

"Tomas?"

He must've zoned out for a second, because the talk about breakfast was obviously over and Tomas blinked, surprised to have two pairs of eyes looking at his face with curiosity.

"Hm? Sorry, I... got lost in my thoughts," he offered as an explanation, ignoring the raised eyebrow on Marcus' face. "What were you talking about?" he asked with a smile. Marcus rolled his eyes. He was obviously itching to say something but didn't want to, not in front of Harper.

"Stop sulking by the window and come over here." Marcus turned back to Harper. "He's just sulking cause it was me who picked up our present for you," he said and with a wink pulled out a small stuffed tabby cat from his bag. Harper's face lit up in a smile and she took the plushy toy, looking at both men with joy.

"Thank you, father Marcus, father Tomas," she said, holding the cat carefully.

"You know you can call us just Marcus and Tomas, right?" Tomas asked and Harper shrugged, suddenly nervous.

"You can call us whatever you like, dear, no worries. Now, what was it you'd wanted to try from the snack machine?"

"Snickers!" Harper called, suddenly enthusiastic. "Mom never let me have one..."

"Snickers it is. I'll also try and find something that won't pull all your teeth out, right?" Marcus stood up from the bed and headed for the door, giving Tomas an imploring look, which Tomas interpreted as 'Talk, but don't mess it up'. As if that was so easy.

Marcus closed the door and Harper and Tomas were suddenly left alone, but in awkward silence. Harper was biting her lip sheepishly, throwing covert looks at Tomas while he was looking around, seemingly lost for words. Finally with a sigh he pulled a chair next to Harper's bed and sat down.

"Well... this is a really nice looking room," Tomas started, looking at the happy paintings of animals. His eyes landed on the painting of something small and green and he froze, thinking it was a frog, but quickly realizing it was just a strangely drawn turtle.

"Y-yeah, it's nice," Harper replied then sighed.

"What's wrong?" Tomas asked with concern, his attention fully on Harper now.

"I just..." Harper focused on the cat, then looked up, her eyes landing on the bruise on his temple. "Are you mad at me?" she finally asked and Tomas froze, unsure if he heard right.

"I'm sorry, Harper... what? Of course not!" Tomas shook his head, ignoring the spark of pain. Instead he reached out gently and touched Harper's hand.

"Why would you think that?"

Harper seemed to relax, some of the tension leaving her body. She pointed towards Tomas' head.

"My mom did that to you... cause of me?"

There was guilt in her eyes and Tomas wasn't prepared for that. He didn't know how to react, how to make it right. He was cursing Harper's mother, his own visions and most of all Marcus, because the bastard left him alone to deal with this. Most of all, he was shocked that it was guilt in Harper's eyes and not an accusation.

"That's not true, Harper," he said once he found his voice. He gently squeezed Harper's hand to make sure he had her full attention before he continued to speak.

"Your mom is sick... it was her who was sick, not you. You have _nothing_ to feel guilty about. If anything, it should be me, because..." Tomas paused, unsure what to say.

"Because you believed her," Harper finished for him and Tomas looked away, ashamed. He nodded slowly.

"I did," he admitted, guilt and self recrimination pouring from his voice. "I am truly sorry for that."

The hand he was still holding pulled away and Tomas felt like someone just twisted the dagger already stuck in his stomach. But a moment later the hand was back, warm and gentle.

"It's okay," Harper said and Tomas dared to look up with hope. "I believed her too."

And if that didn't just break his heart, he knew nothing else would. He had to pull himself together, because this was not the moment to fall apart. With a hoarse voice, Tomas said a quiet prayer and squeezed the offered hand, his eyes feeling like sandpaper.

"We both know better now, yes?" he finally said and Harper blinked, then gave him a small smile.

"I think so."

The tension in the room eased slightly and Tomas leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his tired eyes.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" he reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a small coloring book with a pack of coloring pens. "This is for you. I thought you might need some distraction."

Harper took the coloring book with some doubt.

"Thank you, father Tomas," she said, looking at the cover strangely. Tomas seemed confused at the reaction.

"If you don't like it, I can exchange it for something else," he started and Harper shook her head.

"No, I like it, thank you. It's just..."

"Harper?"

"Aren't coloring books for small kids?" she asked and Tomas chuckled.

"Actually, I heard they are now quite popular for adults too."

Harper gave him a suspicious look, as if trying to figure out if a priest could be lying, which just made Tomas smile more.

"It's true... adults find it rather relaxing."

"I don't think this one is for adults though," Harper said, one eyebrow up, almost a small imitation of Marcus and Tomas fought back a snort. She pointed at the picture of a unicorn on the cover.

"You're probably right. But please, don't say that to Marcus," Tomas added, his voice suddenly turning conspiratorial.

"Why?"

"Well, I bought him a similar one a few days back and he seems to be enjoying it," Tomas winked and Harper laughed. Just then the door opened and Marcus walked in, his hands full of different packages of food. He looked at the two smiling faces and smirked.

"I see you were enjoying yourself while I was off on the food run," Marcus put down his loot with some satisfaction.

"Did you leave anything behind, Marcus? Or are you planning on putting Harper in a sugar coma?" Tomas exclaimed upon seeing all the different chocolate bars and chips. Marcus rolled his eyes.

"Spoil sport, isn't he?" he turned towards Harper who was eyeing the pile with wide eyes. "Though I would advice leaving some of this for later," he added after a moment of consideration.

"That's okay, I couldn't eat all that. You can take some too," Harper offered even as she reached after the Snickers bar. Tomas and Marcus exchanged silent looks, then Tomas quickly grabbed the candy bar Marcus refused to give him a few days back. With a triumphant smile he popped one candy into his mouth, ignoring Marcus' shake of head and the muttered 'like a child'. Tomas then reached out and offered another candy to Marcus, sort of a peace offering.

Harper watched them curiously, while slowly chewing on the chocolate bar.

"How's that, luv?" Marcus asked, flopping down on the chair that was previously occupied by Tomas.

"Sweet and... crunchy," Harper said just as she crunched down a peanut. "I like it."

"Mhm, I like that one too," Marcus said and looked at the clock on the wall, then at the stash of sweets. "Maybe we should hide these away, what do you say? Before the nurse comes back and kicks us out for spoiling your appetite."

Harper just shrugged and watched as Marcus put all the candies away in the bedside table. She also looked at the clock and the easy smile slipped from her face.

"What's wrong, luv?" Marcus asked, noticing the sudden change.

"Do you..." Harper started then paused, looking at the two men with uncertainty. Tomas' heart ached for her and Marcus leaned forward in the chair, giving the child his full attention.

"It's okay, duckling. You can ask us whatever you want," he softly said and Harper seemed to collect herself. Tomas was in awe at how much she trusted them... essentially strangers. But then if she couldn't trust her own mother what did blood even mean?

"Do you know what... what happens now? To me?" Harper asked, her voice barely audible. Marcus reached out, his hand cupping her face gently, careful of the open sores. Harper's eyes looked at him with such trust that Marcus had a hard time finding his own voice.

"You'll be just fine, luv," he said with conviction and a promise. He would make sure Harper ended up in right hands and that she was being taken care of properly. "You remember Rose?"

Harper nodded. "She's the lady that came with the policemen, when mom..." Harper's eyes looked at Marcus' bandaged arm and at Tomas standing by the foot of her bed. "When you saved me," she added, her voice stronger.

"That's her. Rose was trying to help you even before we came."

"She seems okay," Harper admitted and Marcus smiled at her.

"Well, she knows of a nice place you can stay at until everything gets sorted out. It's a small group home with only a few children."

"Were you there?" Harper asked with hope.

"No sweetheart, but I'm sure it's okay."

"I don't..." Harper shook her head, then she moved faster than any of the man expected and Marcus found himself with an armful of a small girl, her head burrowed into his chest as she spoke. "I don't want to go there. Can't I stay with you? Please?"

Both Marcus and Tomas froze, taken aback by the request. Marcus hugged the girl, putting a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry luv, but that's really not possible. You know what we do... that's not a life I would wish on any child, especially not one as bright and great as you. Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you, okay?" Marcus muttered gentle reassurances and Harper pushed herself off his chest, sniffling a bit, but her eyes were dry.

"I'm scared," she whispered and Marcus nodded.

"I know. I would be scared too, angel. I was there, I know how hard it is." Marcus tapped Harper's chin."But I also know how strong you are and that you can handle it."

Harper grimaced, not as easily assured by platitudes.

"Will you come with me? I... I don't wanna go alone."

"Of course we will come," It was Tomas who spoke, earning an appreciative look from Marcus. Harper looked between the two men and Marcus gave her a reassuring smile and a nod.

"We were planning to stick around for a few more days, to make sure you're doing okay. Of course we'll go with you. I hear the home is on a beautiful island nearby. My old bones could use some change of scenery."

Harper smiled, then shook her head.

"You're not so old," she said and patted Marcus on the shoulder placatingly, eliciting a chuckle from Tomas.

"Oh well, thank you, young lady. I feel so much better now," Marcus said and, with an exaggerated huff that didn't hide the creaking of bones, he deposited Harper back on her bed. Just in time too as the nurse peeked into the room, her eyes pointedly looking at the clock.

"Don't want to rush you gentleman, but Harper will need her rest before the tests," she reminded them and both men nodded. Harper frowned unhappily, then clutched at her plush cat.

"Can't you stay a bit longer?" she asked and gave Marcus such a pleading look he almost acquiesced. But then he looked over at Tomas and saw the man waver a bit, eyes squinting in badly hidden discomfort.

"Sorry, sweetheart. We'll have to go. Tomas needs his beauty rest too," Marcus said with a look and Tomas opened his mouth to protest, but closed it shut at the raised eyebrow. "Not to mention, that nurse scares me a bit," Marcus added in a hushed tone and Harper snickered.

"She wouldn't hurt a fly," she protested half heartedly. "Though she might give you a really bad breakfast."

"I'll have to take your word for it," Marcus said with a smirk and gently ruffled Harper's hair. "We have to go, sunshine. But we'll see you soon, right?"

Harper nodded, putting on a brave face, even though she was squeezing the plush cat pretty hard. Marcus and Tomas said their farewells and stepped out of the room before her eyes could convince them otherwise. The nurse at the desk gave them a smile and headed towards the room to check on her. They walked from the hospital in silence, though as soon as they reached the car, Tomas flopped down heavily in the seat, one hand rubbing at his aching temple.

Marcus looked at him, wondering if it was just a headache or if it was something else bothering the young priest.

"How did your talk go?" he asked finally and Tomas let out a heavy sigh, then turned to Marcus. The look of anguish on his face almost undid the older man.

"Tomas?"

"She forgave me," Tomas said, then shook his head. "She forgave me for almost killing her." There was disbelief in his voice and Marcus instinctively reached out, squeezing his shoulder.

"Maybe you should try and do the same?"

"How can I?" Tomas shook his head and turned away, shame and guilt battling on his face. Marcus didn't have the answer, so instead he turned on the engine and drove them back towards the motel. Some things just couldn't be solved with a simple word.


	6. Episode 4 - part 1

_**A/N:** Wanted to thank Starrylizard for her support and a quick beta. All mistakes left are my own:) Hope you enjoy this part._

* * *

The night before Harper was released from the hospital, Marcus Keane sat on the stairs in front of their motel room. He was holding a rosary, eyes locked on something invisible in the darkness and mouth moving in silent prayer. It was nothing new for him, this praying in solitude, but lately it was like talking to a void. There was nothing on the other side, just the taunting echo of the words the demon in Cindy threw at Marcus several days ago.

' _But you're not a priest, are you? Oh, God abandoned you. You're nothing but an empty vessel.'_

 _"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith," Marcus started to pray, even as the demon kept talking, it's vile words cutting deeper and deeper into Marcus' mind._

 _'Why do you wanna pray, when you know no one's listening to you? You think your friend will discard you too?'_

 _"...we find peace with God through Our Lord Jesus Christ-"_

 _The demon cackled and Cindy's body twisted._

 _'Father Tomas, God's new favorite. He doesn't need you. You need him, so your wasted life has a purpose.'_

"-we glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance-" Marcus found himself repeating the verse, trying to ignore that voice in his head, echoing Cindy's words. _God abandoned you. Father Tomas, God's new favorite. He doesn't need you. No one does._

The last one came from somewhere deep inside and suddenly Marcus was back, feeling the hard stairs underneath, the crispness of the night air. He looked up, towards the stars, eyes filled with hurt and fear.

"Why aren't you answering?" he asked with choked voice. "Did I make a mistake? Is this all a mistake?"

There was no answer, no light inside his chest, nothing. Just emptiness and a crawling fear that maybe he was wrong, that taking Tomas onto this journey wasn't what God planned for them. That somehow, he fell from God's grace and there was no way back.

"What do you want from me?" Marcus asked in whisper, looking at the strongest shining star as if it could give him an answer.

The door behind him opened and Marcus jerked when he heard Tomas' voice.

"Marcus? Dinner's ready."

"I'll be right in," Marcus said, his voice hoarse. He could feel Tomas staring at his back, waiting, dying to ask if everything was alright. "Just... give me a minute, yeah?" Marcus chanced a glance and saw Tomas nod, his face wearing a puzzled frown. Still, there was no protest, only the soft click of the closing door and Marcus let out a sigh.

"Why is it that each time I pray for a sign, you bring me him?" Shaking his head, Marcus looked down at his rosary, biting his lip. If God was answering, it was in ways Marcus didn't comprehend and it didn't make him feel any better. Doubt was growing in his heart each day he couldn't feel God's light coursing through his body and he wondered how long it would take until the power of words left him too. What will be left then? Just an empty shell of a boy that watched his mother being murdered by his father, a little boy who pulled the trigger and made himself an orphan. Marcus wasn't sure there would be anything left of him to salvage then.

Tomas knew something was bothering Marcus, something that wasn't connected to Harper or their latest exorcism. Maybe it wasn't even connected to Bennett and the last six months they spent on the road. No, this was something much deeper, lurking and dangerous and Tomas wished he could help his friend fight it. Several times that day he found himself wishing to ask, but knew the older man must decide to tell him himself. With Marcus it was like that... he could be stubborn to death, but the moment he decided, everything came pouring out in raw detail. Tomas hoped that when that happened, he would be near and not held down by his own demons.

They ate dinner in amenable silence. They prayed together and Marcus turned on the TV while Tomas prepared for bed. He still got easily tired and battled the residual headache, but thankfully the dizziness was gone. Lying down in bed, Tomas noted that Marcus at least turned down the volume a bit, although his choice of programming was more than questionable. The screen lit up in fire as an impressive car crash involving too many vehicles to count played out, killing almost everyone on the screen in one or other horrible way. Tomas frowned and Marcus chuckled, popping a candy into his mouth, his eyes shining like a kid who was allowed to stay up late.

"What are you watching?" And why? Tomas wanted to add but bit his lip when he saw the smile on Marcus face.

"Final Destination... dunno which one. Someone who's supposed to die survives and saves the others, so the whole movie they're being killed off in the most absurd ways. It's hilarious," Marcus said just as there was another gruesome death on the screen.

"Sounds... interesting," Tomas muttered, ignoring the smirk Marcus was giving him. "Think I'll give it a pass though. You can tell me in the morning if anyone survived."

"Doubt there will be anything to tell," Marcus said and turned back to the TV, though when there was another loud crash he turned the volume down even more. Tomas fluffed his pillow and lay down, hoping the sounds coming from the TV and Marcus' occasional commentary on the stupidity of one of the protagonist's actions would help lull him into a somehow peaceful sleep.

While he managed to fall asleep rather quickly, the sleep that came was anything but peaceful.

The dream started innocently enough. There was a boat, just a small rowing boat, not much bigger than a canoe. Tomas was in the boat with a paddle in each hand. He was sitting in the middle of a deadly calm lake. There was no ripple on the surface; the dark water looked almost like a mirror. The sky was grey, the sun hidden behind a cloud. Tomas could barely see the shore, the lake was covered with thick mist, but he started rowing and the shore was getting closer.

There was a figure standing on the shore and for a moment Tomas' heart relaxed, thinking it was Marcus here to help with whatever was wrong with this place. Because something was disturbingly wrong, Tomas just couldn't put his finger on it. After what felt like an eternity, Tomas finally reached the shore. A hand reached toward him, offering help getting out of the boat and he gripped it before realizing that this wasn't Marcus at all.

It was a woman... a stranger, but with familiar eyes.

 _"_ _Quien eres tu?"_ _Tomas asked and the woman smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile and Tomas felt a shiver run down his spine._

 _"Better question padre is, who are you?" she spoke, but the voice didn't belong to her and Tomas took a step back. He felt his leg stepping into emptiness, he expected to feel the boat under his feet but there was nothing, just cold water. No boat, no pier... and no woman. Only ice coldness and Tomas slipping underneath, gasping for breath and choking on water instead._

 _He felt himself sinking down into the darkness, felt the water fill his lungs with painful clarity. He wanted to scream, but there were bubbles of precious air leaving his mouth. The darkness closed around him and Tomas thought he might just be dying... maybe he was already dead. There was nothing, only him, the darkness and the sticky wetness pushing against every pore of his skin._

 _It lasted forever or maybe just a second, Tomas didn't know._

 _'Tomas?' he heard a familiar voice calling from far away._

 _'Tomas!'_

 _A hand reached down, bringing light and hope. Tomas blinked, the water stinging his eyes but he didn't care anymore. There was a hand offering deliverance from this nothingness and with last of his strength, Tomas reached towards it._

 _There was a flash of light, a huge ripple tore through the water and suddenly Tomas was standing on a pier, his clothes dry and his lungs filled with precious air._

 _The shock of it drove him to his knees, a litany of prayers on his lips. He looked up, searching for the hand but it wasn't there. He still felt the warmth of it coursing through his body, but he was also acutely aware of the darkness crawling all around him in the shadows._

 _Somewhere in the back of his mind Tomas realized this was just a dream... God, he hoped it was just a dream and not a vision of things to come, but that realization was overridden by the sharpness of his senses, by his feelings. His skin was hot, but there was moist coldness in the air. He could feel a familiar smell of the aftershave and sweat mixed with the less familiar stink of rotting bodies and dead fish. It made his stomach turn, but there was nothing to come up and Tomas swallowed, his mouth suddenly parched. The worst thing however was the utter silence and the stillness of the air. As if time itself stopped._

 _"Hello?" Tomas called out, startled by the sharpness of the sound he made. It was like a crack of thunder and Tomas quickly turned around, as if expecting to be hit by lightning. It would've been a relief at this point; however, there was no such salvation. Instead there was the sound of steps on the wooden pier._

 _"Olivia?" Tomas asked with disbelief and frowned at the familiar figure that stepped out from the mist._

 _"Tomas!" Olivia ran towards him and Tomas enveloped her in a confused hug._

 _"What are you doing here?"_

 _"Oh Tomas, he's gone," Olivia sobbed into his shoulder and Tomas froze._

 _"Who's gone?" he asked, his voice shaking._

 _"Luis. They... they took him. You must come back, come back home," Olivia gripped his shirt and looked at him with such despair Tomas couldn't think, couldn't speak. He felt that with each second the warmth that came from the hand raising him from the water was vanishing, being replaced by coldness and dread._

 _"No, it's not possible. You and Luis are safe in Chicago," Tomas finally said with choked voice, gently pushing Olivia from his chest._

 _"They took him, Tomas! Because you weren't there, because you couldn't protect us!" Olivia shouted, her pain quickly changing into anger as she hit Tomas on the chest. "They took my boy and he's gone, because you ran away like a little coward you are" the voice changed and Tomas gasped, pushing the woman away from himself. It still bore the face of his sister, but the eyes were wrong... the eyes were metal red and the smile was cold just like that water. The being inclined its head and laughed._

 _"What's wrong, padre? You don't like to hear the truth?"_

 _"You speak no truth, only lies," Tomas said, a prayer on his lips. 'Father, in the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ I decree that, by your grace and wisdom, I, my family, my church and all those that concern me are well taught of You.'_

 _The being only laughed harder, as if the words were of no consequence here, as if they had no power. Tomas started shaking and backing away, but he still kept on praying._

 _'We are well grounded in the Word and we know the difference between the holy and the unholy. We have discernment to differentiate the clean from the unclean and the true from the untrue. When life and death is set before us, we choose life. When blessing and cursing is set before us, we choose blessing. Therefore we live and do not die. We do not fall for lies and deception.'_

 _"Ah, lies and deception are such strong words. Maybe I do speak the truth of the future... maybe you really are a coward who left behind his sister and nephew, in a city crawling with demons. Maybe you're the coward who's too afraid to stand up for himself, a coward who must hide in the shadow of an old lion. You're just a cub, Tomas, nothing more. A toothless cub brought to a hunt." Olivia, or rather the being wearing her face cackled and Tomas choked down a sob, shaking his head and repeating the words that should bring him peace._

' _Lord, lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever. Amen.'_

 _The being let out a howl of laughter and the metal red eyes turned back to the familiar black, which were now filled with horror._

" _Tomas?" Olivia gasped in her own voice, then there was a sickening snap and Tomas watched as his sister fell to the ground in a boneless heap._

 _"No!" Tomas shouted and rushed over, cradling his sister in his arms. Tears poured down his face as the prayers were forgotten and all he could mumble over and over again was a wish for forgiveness, a plea to God to take him instead and spare his family. The body in his arms twitched and Tomas opened his eyes, only to find that he was no longer holding his sister but Harper, small and barely breathing, a look of accusation in her eyes._

 _"This is all your fault, Father Tomas. Look at me, look at what you did to me!" Harper gasped hoarsely as blood started pouring from her mouth and Tomas couldn't handle it anymore. He screamed in pain and rage, feeling as if his heart was going to burst from all of it. And suddenly there were hands all over him, small hands of children, sticky with paint and blood and Tomas could take no more. His eyes rolled back inside his skull and all he knew was darkness._

 _TBC_


	7. Episode 4 - part 2

A/N: As always, thanks to Starrylizard for the quick beta. Any and all mistakes left are my own. Enjoy the chapter:)

* * *

It was the middle of the night, the movie has ended a long time ago and Marcus woke up to the feeling that something was wrong. Marcus was a light sleeper since childhood... years in the boy's home taught him to be wary, always keep an ear for anything suspicious. No one could get in the middle of a prank war easier than a scrawny eight year old with a chip on his shoulder. The boy's home taught him to always be aware of his surroundings, just like the church and years of being an exorcist taught him how to fall asleep anywhere and anytime. Because once the exorcism started, sleep and food were usually the first physical needs that were pushed to the background.

So it was no wonder Marcus blinked his eyes open in the middle of the night when Tomas made a sound of distress. He lay still for a moment, one hand rubbing over his eyes, listening to see if the sound that woke him would repeat or if he could just turn over and go back to sleep.

" _Quien eres tu?"_ Tomas asked and Marcus froze. _Who are you?_ Tomas' voice was strangled and the question ended in a hitch of a breath.

Marcus sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, momentarily blinking at the sudden light. He almost hoped that the light would be enough to wake Tomas, but the younger man didn't seem to notice. He was too deep in the dream and judging by his ragged breathing, it was anything but pleasant.

His feet were tangled up in the blanket and his skin was covered in cold sweat. His eyes were moving wildly under the closed lids and there was a grimace on his face. Suddenly Tomas jerked, took in one big gulp of breath... and that was it. His chest stopped moving, his whole body stiffening up. Marcus quickly closed the distance between their beds, putting a hand on Tomas' chest.

"Tomas?" he asked, then shook the man, but there was no reaction. Feeling panic crawling inside his own chest, Marcus once again slapped Tomas' chest and called out his name, his other hand squeezing Tomas' arm.

"Tomas!"

For a second there was no reaction, then Tomas' hand reached out and grasped Marcus' arm in a death grip.

"Come on, wake up!" Marcus commanded.

A shiver rippled through Tomas' body and suddenly he was breathing again, gasping for breath, gulping it down as if it was the most precious thing on earth. Marcus found his own breathing coming in strong bursts too as he was trying to calm down, to figure out what was going on. One hand reached out to check Tomas' pulse, the other was still trapped in a death grip.

"Racing like a horse," Marcus muttered to himself. "What the hell are you dreaming of, Tomas?" he asked and gently slapped the other man's face, hoping to bring him back to reality, but there was no reaction.

Tomas started shivering and his lips moved in silent words.

" _Olivia_?" Marcus heard the surprise and followed a seemingly one way conversation. He was watching Tomas' face change from surprise to horror and as the young priest started reciting the prayer for protection against deception, Marcus couldn't help but pray with him.

Whatever was going on in the dream seemed to worsen though as Tomas gave a sound of such anguish Marcus' heart twitched in pain along with him.

"Come on, Tomas, wake up!" Marcus had just about had enough. Tomas' breathing and pulse were once again reaching dangerous levels and the man was now twitching as if he was being burned alive. Marcus extricated his arm from Tomas' grip and quickly walked over to his bag where he kept a bottle with holy water. Grabbing his rosary he was just about to sprinkle Tomas, when all of a sudden everything stopped. Tomas' features went slack, and his breathing evened out. Marcus paused, for a moment thinking the worst, but he saw Tomas' chest moving and he felt his own heart settle down.

Sitting down on the bed next to Tomas, he lifted an eyelid, relieved to see no white film covering the pupils, although he realized he should've done that sooner. Tomas still didn't wake and that was a bit troubling, but Marcus had a feeling the worst has passed. Still... he dipped his finger in holy water and made a cross on Tomas' forehead, lips and chest, then he knelt down next to the bed and repeated the prayer Tomas spoke in his dream.

When he finished, he returned to his bed and turned off the light. He lay down so that he had a clear view on his protégé and willed himself back to sleep. For the first time in years though, Marcus couldn't fall asleep. That nightmare didn't seem natural and knowing Tomas had a knack for visions made this one seem even more dangerous. The part where he stopped breathing for a moment and couldn't be woken up really scared Marcus, because he couldn't do anything about it. Tomas couldn't do anything about it either, not when he was asleep. He was too vulnerable and the demons sensed it... sensed his weakness. Sooner or later, Tomas will go too far and Marcus won't be able to bring him back. Just like he couldn't help his friend that spent six months with a demon... the problem was that, this time, Marcus wasn't ready to give up. He couldn't just turn around and leave Tomas to fend for himself, even though they butted heads more often than not.

He was the one that took him on as an apprentice and, whether he liked it or not, he had some responsibility to keep him safe, to keep him alive. Even though it seemed to get harder each day. Right now, Marcus could use some advice from God, but he still wasn't speaking to him, and Marcus wondered if he would ever feel God's presence again, or if he was finally, after all those years of service, forsaken and abandoned as an old piece of clothing. With these thoughts in mind Marcus finally slipped into fitful sleep.

"Marcus, it's almost ten," Tomas said and Marcus growled.

"Piss off," he muttered and turned on his other side, putting the pillow over his head for good measure. He didn't hear the soft chuckle, but he smelled the coffee that was put on his bedside table. He could also hear Tomas moving around the room, cleaning up and generally being a nuisance. But the smell of the coffee was strong and he turned around, almost on a pavlovian reflex.

"I hate you," he muttered but reached for the cup. Tomas was just buttoning up his black shirt, one eyebrow raised as if in provocation.

"Well, it's not my fault if you stay up all night watching horror flicks on TV," Tomas said with a smirk and Marcus almost threw the cup of coffee at him. How dare he be so chipper and _awake_ after tonight! Marcus sat up and asked the question that had been on his mind since he went to sleep.

"What was the vision about this time?"

Tomas paused then shook his head in puzzlement.

"What are you talking about?" He didn't like the tone of Marcus' question, or the hard look the other man was giving him. "I already told you everything about the vision at the Grahams."

"I'm asking about the one you had last night."

Tomas laughed.

"What?" He shook his head and looked at Marcus as if he was the one acting crazy. "I didn't have any vision last night. What are you talking about?"

"Bollocks!" Marcus snapped and Tomas recoiled in surprise. "Don't lie to me, Tomas. I thought we were past this."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Marcus," Tomas said in a voice that made Marcus reconsider. He frowned.

"I never lied to you, Marcus. I'm not about to start now."

"No, you don't lie," Marcus admitted. "You just sometimes do the opposite of what I tell you to. But that's not the problem now," Marcus sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

"You really don't remember anything?"

Tomas shook his head and sat down on his own bed, facing Marcus, curiosity and concern battling on his face.

"What should I remember? I went to sleep then I woke up. Did something happen during the night?"

Marcus looked him straight in the eyes, looking for any deception, any hint of something hidden. But there was nothing, only curiosity and confusion in those brown eyes.

"You... seemed to have a nightmare. A rather violent one, I might say."

Tomas frowned, trying to remember, but there was nothing. He felt a bit more tired this morning when he woke up and his shirt clung to him uncomfortably, still a bit damp from sweet, but his mind was blank. No memory of dreams or nightmares.

"Did I do something?" he asked carefully, his eyes flitting over Marcus' face as if looking for a split lip or some other evidence of him lashing out in his sleep, anything that would explain Marcus' bad mood.

"You stopped breathing for a minute... you were trashing around as if the hell hounds were on your trail, then you just stopped breathing." Marcus delivered it calmly, although when it happened he was anything but calm.

Tomas blinked.

"Are you sure?"

Marcus rewarded him with his trademark look of 'are you an idiot?' and Tomas shrugged.

"It... can happen? I don't know. I'm fine now." Tomas tried to brush it off and stood up, but Marcus grabbed his arm, stopping him. Something in that motion stirred a memory, a fleeting image of light and hands lifting him from darkness, but the memory vanished almost instantly, leaving behind only a warm feeling on his arm, where Marcus was holding him.

"You were not fine, Tomas." Marcus said imploringly and Tomas sat back down on the bed.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Marcus. I can't remember anything. I'm sorry if I disturbed your sleep. If you'd woken me up then, maybe I could remember, but..."

"You think I didn't try?" Marcus snapped angrily. "I was just about to sprinkle you with some holy water when you settled down. You were speaking out loud, Tomas. Saying the prayer for protection against deception, calling after your sister. Then..." Marcus shook his head. "I don't know what you saw, but whatever it was, caused you great anguish."

Tomas swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and shook his head.

"I'm sorry you couldn't sleep, Marcus. But it was probably just a dream, nothing else."

"I couldn't wake you up," Marcus insisted and Tomas shrugged.

"Maybe it was the concussion. Next time, try the ice cold water," Tomas tried to joke, but the mention of ice cold water stirred something in his mind. Yet once again it vanished before he could remember. Shaking his head, Tomas get off the bed and this time Marcus didn't try to stop him.

"This is no joke, Tomas. You let the demons inside your mind... you don't have a clue what damage they can cause."

Tomas clenched his teeth, suddenly feeling angry himself. He knew well enough what damage it could cause, felt it the moment he connected with Cindy and he also saw what damage it could cause to others, like Harper. Still, he didn't need another reminder of his failings.

"I really don't want to talk about this again, Marcus. I don't know what I was dreaming about tonight, but I'm pretty sure it was just that... a dream. What use would a vision be to anyone if I couldn't remember it?"

"You need to take this seriously, Tomas," Marcus said and Tomas raised his hand in frustration.

"Look, I know, okay? But whether it was a dream or a vision, I can hardly control it, so there's really no sense in you reprimanding me for it. Or is there?"

Marcus stayed silent, though his look clearly said he was still fuming over something.

Tomas huffed and grabbed his phone and keys.

"I need to clear my head. I'll rewrap your arm when I get back."

He didn't wait for an answer and was out the door, leaving Marcus to his thoughts.

* * *

Tomas didn't go all that far. He walked around the block, still fuming about Marcus's accusation of him not taking this serious. After what happened with Harper, Tomas spent most of his days thinking about the visions and what they really meant for him, if they were help or hindrance. Right now, he wasn't sure and that bothered him. It was one thing was when he had to fight Marcus on the matter, but now he was starting to doubt his own mind.

Tomas was startled from his thoughts by an angry honk of a car and he realized that he'd stepped into a crossroad without looking. Raising a hand in apology, Tomas quickly stepped out of the way and back onto the sidewalk, taking a calming breath and trying to shake off the sudden rush of adrenaline. He felt his breath hitching and something about that brought back an image of a lake... and suddenly all he could see was his sister's face.

'Olivia... I should call her,' he thought, realizing it was all too long since he'd last spoken to her. That was before Bennett told them to keep a low profile, before he discarded his number and the only means of contact his sister had for him. Tomas turned and slowly headed back to the motel. He knew it was a risk to call, but he figured that a quick hello shouldn't be a problem. And for some reason the homesickness he had handled well so far came back rushing like a train, hitting him straight in the chest. He needed to know that his sister and nephew were alright, needed to let them know that he was alive so they wouldn't worry. Just a quick call... there was nothing wrong about it. Tomas reached their motel room door, but hesitated before entering.

He knew Marcus cautioned him to be careful about any contact. Tomas got a quick lesson in how long he can keep talking, that he needed to destroy the number and most of all not tell their location to anyone. It was simple. Still, Tomas had a feeling that Marcus might try and dissuade him from calling his sister, if nothing else then he would be mocking him for his homesickness and right now Tomas wasn't in the mood for that.

Turning around, Tomas sat down on the stairs and for a moment just looked at the phone. He had his sister's number memorized just like the prayer of St. Francis. Yet he was still unsure. If Olivia asked him to come back... how could he explain that it isn't possible? Not now, not until they get a chance to really talk to Bennett and figure out what is going on and who posed a danger to them.

Biting his lip and looking around, Tomas finally made his fingers dial the number. He had to close his eyes when he heard the familiar voice of his sister.

"Hello?"

"Olivia? It's me, Tomas," he spoke, his voice almost shaking. He sucked up every word she spoke, feeling relief upon hearing her voice, of knowing she was okay. But the relief was short lived as she reminded him of the missed birthday and the questions about his whereabouts started. That he expected. What he didn't expect was to hear that someone was looking for him... someone from the church. His gut churned and he felt a cold shiver run down his back as a memory stirred, but stayed under the surface.

"I'm safe, I promise. I love you," he said and finished the call before Olivia could convince him to come back. He wanted to make sure she was safe and right now it looked like the best way to do it would be to stay far away. Pulling out the card and breaking it in half didn't bring him any satisfaction and he was still feeling tense and worried when he entered the motel room.

Marcus was already up and showered, the bandage gone from his arm and the cut strikingly sharp on the pale skin. Tomas knelt down before the man and started tending to his arm as he had done before, though he might've been a bit too harsh. Marcus was silent, but his arm twitched at every touch and Tomas snapped.

"Stop fidgeting!"

"I'm not fidgeting!" Marcus snapped back. Tomas glanced up then back at the wound, covering it with sterile bandage. He put a hand on it to still the older man and calm himself as well.

"Somebody's looking for us," he said quietly and Marcus stilled. "A few men tried to talk to my sister."

Tomas looked up at Marcus questioningly and with hope.

"What's our next move?"

Marcus shook his head, his eyes sad and voice a bit hoarse when he said: "There is no next move. I still haven't heard from Bennett."

"What does that mean?"

"Means we're on our own," Marcus replied a bit angrily. He knew Tomas was looking at him for answers, to take the lead, but right now Marcus himself didn't know what the right way was. He was going on blind and was scared that when Tomas realized that, he would just up and leave.

Tomas looked away, focusing on finishing the bandage on Marcus' arm.

"God will show us the way," he said wistfully, but all Marcus could hear was Tomas' certainty that God will speak to him, that he won't leave him without answer. And that made Marcus angry.

"Like he led us to Harper Graham?" Marcus almost spat, his voice cold as ice and cutting deep. Tomas swallowed, feeling the sting and the reprimand, the guilt he was trying so hard to push back since the visit in the hospital roaring back to the surface, stronger than before.

"I was... wrong about Harper," Tomas admitted and Marcus knew he should have stopped there, but he was angry and jealous and scared, so he lashed out.

"Maybe you were wrong about God."

At that, Tomas looked up, taken aback by the anger and the words. Feeling disbelief.

"So what should we do?" he gazed into Marcus eyes. "Give up? Stop listening?" he asked with choked voice.

"Do you hear anything? _Anything at all?"_

Tomas frowned at the question.

"Cause I certainly don't," Marcus replied coldly and Tomas felt his stomach coil up at those words. Marcus always had faith and seeing him doubting himself, doubting _God_ , was scaring Tomas more than he wanted to admit.

Marcus stood up and grabbed his long-sleeved shirt, pulling it over his head.

"We should get ready," Tomas said, and Marcus paused at how shaky his voice sounded. "Rose and Harper will be here soon."

Marcus stood still, then slowly finished pulling the shirt down. Tomas left the room with eyes downcast, not once looking at Marcus. He sounded almost broken and Marcus suddenly thought that he didn't want that. He didn't want another broken person on his conscience, didn't want to drag Tomas down with him. If they were to continue this work, this mission, at least one of them needed to be strong and whole, at least one of them needed to be in God's favor. And if that was supposed to be Tomas, then so be it. Marcus wasn't going to be the person to ruin him.


	8. Episode 4 - part 3

_**A/N:** As always, thanks to Starrylizard for the beta read, all mistakes left behind are my own creation:) This part will have a bit more scenes taken straight from the show, I hope you won't mind, but I wanted to add just a little something to them. Enjoy and let me know what you think:)_

* * *

The moment Tomas' feet touched the pier, it was as if he was somewhere else. Harper, Rose and Marcus vanished in a mist, the boat they came with turned into a small rowing boat on an empty and deadly still lake. Tomas froze, the memories of the dream slowly creeping back to him. But just when there was a figure stepping out of the mist, the captain of the boat passed by Tomas and suddenly everything was back to normal.

Tomas frowned, trying to make sense of what just happened, but by the time he took a step forward even the last memory vanished leaving him only with the familiar feeling of unease and dread. Tomas swallowed, taking in his surroundings with suspicion, before following Marcus and the girls to the parked car.

"You all right?" Marcus asked him when they were putting Harper's luggage in the back of the car. Tomas nodded, although it left a bad taste in his mouth. He never lied to Marcus, not willfully. Even if he tried, he couldn't... the older man saw right through him and spending the last six months in such close quarters only gave them a deeper insight into the other's behavior and secret tells.

That's why Marcus gave him an annoyed look that clearly said 'I don't believe you, but I'll let you pretend five more minutes'.

Tomas sighed, feeling equal part relieved and grateful not to have to explain something he didn't understand himself. At least not until they were out of Harper and Rose's earshot.

"Later," he muttered and Marcus acquiesced. Maybe later Tomas would know what to tell him.

The ride to the house didn't take so long and they met only one car on their way. It seemed to be in a rather isolated part of the island.

"There's not that many people here, huh?" Harper asked with some worry and pushed closer to Marcus. They were sitting in the back of the car while Rose was driving and Tomas sat on the passenger seat. The seating was chosen by Harper, who grabbed Marcus's hand the moment they reached the car and gave him a pleading look he couldn't say no to. No one protested. Tomas was watching the road and trying to shake off the feeling of foreboding just as a residue of the last few days. Harper was fine, she definitely wasn't the possessed girl Tomas had thought her to be.

Tomas thought that maybe this feeling was just the paranoia caused by the phone call with Olivia, his worry over bringing this whole church conspiracy to his sister's doorstep. She didn't deserve it, Luis didn't deserve it. Tomas would have to find a way to keep tabs on her one way or other, without direct contact. Just the thought of it made his head hurt.

The car jumped a bit as they ran over a rock and Tomas was pulled out of his thoughts. They saw the house and several children playing outside and the car came to a stop.

Marcus stepped out first, followed by a slightly reluctant Harper. Rose quickly whisked her away, making the introductions while Marcus and Tomas stepped to the back of the car to take out the luggage. Suddenly Marcus froze, looking into the trees with a frown. Tomas followed his look but all he saw were several huge spider webs. It wasn't a pretty sight, but Tomas was a city boy and this didn't look out of place to him. However, he knew webs caught Marcus' attention for some reason. He didn't have the time to ask about it though, because the foster father was heading towards them.

"And here you are, Harper's heroes."

Tomas looked at the ground, shaking his head.

"We're not heroes," he protested slightly.

"Don't listen to him, I am," Marcus said with a smirk.

"I knew it," Andy said with a pointed finger and laughed, then pointed them towards the house with a smile.

"Come on inside."

Marcus grabbed Harper's luggage and walked next to Andy, joking lightly. Tomas reluctantly followed, each step feeling as if it were bringing him closer to danger... he just didn't know it yet.

Once Harper was introduced to all members of the family, they let her settle down in her new room with Verity. Andy offered to show them both around the garden and Marcus accepted the offer, hitting it off with the younger man almost instantly. Tomas felt a little like a third wheel and decided to stay inside to keep an eye on Harper. Marcus just shrugged and followed Andy out the door. Tomas walked around the house, feeling a bit like an intruder, but he had this need to make sure Harper would be okay. He knew he was being overprotective, but ever since this morning, every time he looked at Harper he just had a feeling that he failed her and the nagging guilt made his stomach ache. So he walked up the stairs and peered inside the room, feeling relief when he saw Harper talking to Verity, both girls smiling and chatting calmly.

Maybe it would all be okay, Tomas thought. He stepped back from the door, not wanting to disturb the girls, when he felt coldness rush through him. A picture on the wall started shaking and Tomas felt as if his legs turned into lead. Swallowing, feeling a sense of déjà vu, he stepped towards the picture. The shaking stopped but he knew it wasn't over. There was a slight creak and sound of softsteps behind him and Tomas felt fear gripping his insides.

He felt a presence and it wasn't a friendly one. Slowly, oh so slowly, Tomas turned, but the hall was empty. He could still hear the girls talking in the next room. Everything seemed to be alright... everything but the door to the attic, which was slightly ajar. Tomas was sure that it was closed only a few seconds earlier. He threw a look at Harper's room then stepped towards the open door. He felt the coldness hitting his face, the warning of something dangerous, but he also felt the lure of curiosity pulling him towards the stairs to the attic. Something was there, waiting for him. Tomas touched the door and was about to take a step, when he heard a sound behind him.

The strange urge was gone, momentarily broken by the presence of another. Tomas turned and looked at the boy, one of the older ones.

"Father?"

"Tomas," Tomas introduced himself and the boy did the same.

"Shelby."

"Hi."

"Uh, you should know, I'm a believer," Shelby started a bit nervously. Tomas nodded with a smile, his head still somewhere else, his mind wondering about what happened just a minute earlier, but his focus was quickly pulled back towards the boy. "Not like catholic or anything, but... no offense."

"No, no... we are all searching for the same answers," Tomas said, trying to relax the boy. It seemed like he had something important on his mind and Tomas was instantly reminded of his parishioners and taking confessions. He fell back into the role with ease and was ready to listen.

"What can I do for you?"

Something was obviously troubling the boy, as he was choosing his words carefully.

"Why are you guys here?"

Tomas frowned. Not so much about the question, more about the tone of it.

"We wanted to make sure Harper is okay," he replied carefully.

"And... is that the only reason?"

"What other reason would there be?" Tomas slowly asked, his own voice a bit guarded. He was trying not to show the sudden worry and concern, trying to ignore the urge to just grab Harper and Marcus and leave this island behind.

Shelby was about to answer, when Rose walked up the stairs and interrupted them.

"Father Tomas?"

"It was good to meet you, father," Shelby said, his face closing off as he beat a hasty retreat, leaving behind a puzzled priest.

"Father Marcus is looking for you," Rose said and Tomas simply nodded. There was something going on and he didn't have a good feeling about it, not at all. Now he just needed to somehow convince Marcus of it.

"I think she'll be happy here," Marcus said when he walked up to him. Tomas nodded, but he looked troubled.

"You all right?" Marcus frowned and Tomas bit his lip, wondering if he should speak up or not. Just a few days back he thought he could trust his instincts, but now he wasn't sure. Still, it was better to speak up and let Marcus decide whether they should investigate or not.

"One of the older kids was trying to tell me something... I think there's something wrong here.

"I feel it," he added, worried how that may sound but unable to stop himself.

"You feel what?" Marcus asked, looking skeptical, but at the same time Tomas noticed that he didn't instantly laugh it off or tell him he was just being paranoid.

"I thought I was wrong about Harper," Tomas shook his head and bit his lip. "But now I don't know."

He didn't think Harper was possessed, but there was this creepy feeling that someone or something was watching them, even this moment. Ever since stepping onto the island, Tomas was hit by a strong feeling of déjà vu, along with foreboding and he couldn't ignore it, not after spending several months on the road with Marcus, training to be an exorcist.

"Well I guess I can have a look around," Marcus said and Tomas looked at him with surprise. He was prepared to hear Marcus tell him this was all just in his head, that he was acting crazy and overprotective. To hear the older man acquiesce so easily told Tomas that he wasn't the only one having these feelings.

"Do you think I might be right?" he asked with curiosity and watched as Marcus shrugged his shoulder, looking as if he had no care in the world.

"Like I said this morning, we have nowhere else to be until Bennett calls. There's plenty of time before today's last ferry leaves the island."

At Tomas' disbelieving look, Marcus smirked and slapped him on a shoulder.

"I'd rather look around and make sure everything is alright, than have you moping around the motel room wondering if we should've left Harper here alone," Marcus said."I'm gonna get some air and you can socialize with the kids."

Before Tomas could think about a protest or try to go with him, Marcus left the house. Tomas looked around the empty foyer and, with a sigh, went to look around the house. Maybe he could find Shelby and the boy would tell him what was on his mind before Rose interrupted them. He stepped towards the staircase and paused. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and a shiver ran down his spine. He looked up the stairs, expecting to see someone watching him, but there was no one.

* * *

Marcus walked around the house, back to the garden where he saw the first dead crow. The behavior of the birds wasn't normal, he knew that, but that wasn't the only reason why he didn't tell Tomas to just ignore his feelings and head back to the motel. Whether Marcus liked it or not, Tomas had a knack for finding trouble. He was like a magnet for it,and he usually had good instincts, albeit if he often acted rashly on them.

Marcus couldn't hear God, not anymore, but Tomas hadn't yet lost the connection, or at least he hadn't lost his faith. And Marcus had to admit that what happened last night - the nightmare or vision which Tomas said he didn't remember - creeped him out. It was as if something was trying to keep them there... as if they were led to this island. And Marcus couldn't ignore the signs... he noticed Tomas freezing up during their walk from the boat, just as he noticed the nervous look on his face. Tomas would never be a good poker player... he wore his heart on his face, or rather in his eyes. Marcus often worried that the demons might use it against him one day, but there was really nothing he could change about it, other than try and teach Tomas to build up the walls to protect his innermost thoughts and feelings.

Marcus was lost in his thoughts and didn't even realize where his feet were taking him, but he soon found that he was going the right way. There were stone stairs leading down towards a rocky beach and there were also dead crows trailing the path. And a gray haired man poking at something that was decidedly dead and out of place.

* * *

"Thank you again. I promise you, Harper will be in good hands here," Rose told Tomas as he was picking up his jacket. Marcus was still out and about, but Tomas didn't want to linger any more. He could wait on him outside or meet up by the pier. Tomas felt like a good walk would help clear his head anyway.

"It seems like a lovely family," Tomas responded, trying to quell his own doubts. Someone was walking quickly down the stairs and Tomas looked up to see an excited Andy.

"Hey, father, don't go just yet, you should be here for this." Andy stopped and motioned for both Tomas and Rose to follow him. "We got a little ritual. Come on."

Rose and Tomas exchanged curious looks and followed him up the stairs.

"All right, we're all here," Andy clapped his hands. "Are you ready?" he asked and Tomas took in the scene. All the children were standing in the hallway of the first floor. Caleb was holding a paper platter with red dye and Harper was nervously pushing her hand into it.

"Wherever you like," Andy pointed to the wall and Tomas frowned, trying to see what was going on. He took a step closer and his eyes widened, just as his stomach dropped to the floor. There were several handprints on the wall, Harper's red one joining them in a macabre display.

Andy cheered and the kids clapped.

"Hey, now you're family," Andy said, a friendly arm around Harper's shoulder. "No matter what happens, you'll always have a home here. Okay?"

Harper looked up at him sheepishly and nodded. Andy smiled at his family and the children started to talk, Verity leading Harper to the bathroom to wash away the paint from her hand, while Caleb was trying to get some of the red dye on Truck. They moved past Tomas, but he stood stock still, unaware.

He didn't hear the laughter, didn't notice the movement. All he could see were the colorful handprints on the wall of a long forgotten church... Cindy's church. All he could hear was the crying of children as the woman rose from the mud... the faceless girl standing on the road in front of Harper's house, turning toward him and pulling him deeper into the madness of his own mind.

He didn't see the young girl that everyone but Andy seemed to ignore, glaring at him hatefully, but he felt cold sweat breaking out all over his body as that little girl brushed past him towards the stairs. There were images in his head he couldn't discern, but he felt the fear and pain. Oh, so much pain, coming from within these walls, from the island itself.

Tomas swallowed, feeling his knees go weak and his head ready to explode, when there was a warm hand on his arm and suddenly he was back in the house, staring into a pair of concerned eyes.

"Father Tomas?" Rose asked and Tomas blinked, as if woken up from a bad dream.

"Yeah?"

"Are you all right? You look a bit... pale," Rose said, trying to be nice, though it was a clear understatement. Tomas' face was white as a sheet and the bruise on his temple shined vividly. He was swaying on his feet and Rose instinctively squeezed his arm, offering some support.

"I'm... I'm fine, thank you, Rose," he said and tried for a smile, but it came out wrong. Thankfully, the children were gone from the hall along with Andy, though it just gave Tomas a clearer view at the handprints on the wall.

"I think I should go now," he muttered and quickly headed for the stairs, grateful for the solid wooden banister. He wanted to be out of this house, off this island. He needed to talk to Marcus, to make some sense of what just happened, but above all else, he needed his brain to stop messing with him.

Rose obviously wasn't very convinced with his act, because once they reached the hall she put a halting hand on his shoulder.

"Father Tomas, you really don't look good. Maybe you'd like to sit down or drink some water?" she offered and Tomas hesitated. He needed to call Marcus and find out where he was. He also needed a moment to shake off the shock and stop the world from spinning.

"A glass of water sounds lovely," he said and Rose gave him a relieved smile. While she left for the kitchen, Tomas leaned against the wall and pulled out his phone.

Marcus picked up on third ring and Tomas felt instant relief upon hearing the older man's voice.

"Where are you?" Tomas asked without preamble, happy his voice wasn't shaking.

"I took a little detour. I can be at the house or at the pier in about 15 minutes."

"Good. Head for the pier... I'm leaving too."

Something in his voice must've given him away, because there was a slight hesitation then Marcus asked: "You all right?"

Tomas sighed, starting to hate that question. He rubbed at his right eye, giving a slight shake of head, even though he knew Marcus couldn't see it.

"Yeah, I... I'm fine. We need to talk."

"Tomas." There was a warning tone and Tomas could imagine the look on Marcus face that said 'Don't lie to me'. "Do you need me to come to the house?"

"No!" Tomas said a bit too quickly. He didn't want to wait around a minute longer. "I'm already on my way out. No sense in waiting around. I'll meet you there, yeah?"

Tomas ended the call as soon as he heard a mutter of consent. Rose was back and handing him a blissfully cold glass of water.

"Thank you," Tomas took it and drank the water, feeling a bit better instantly. Or maybe it was just the thought of leaving the house.

"I heard the end of your call. So father Marcus isn't coming back?"

"No, he'll meet me at the pier. Thank you, Rose, for taking care of Harper. I should really go now."

"Wait," Rose grabbed her coat and the car keys. "The least I can do is drop you off. You still look a bit shaky, I'd rather not tell Harper that one of her rescuers got lost on the island and needed rescuing himself," Rose added with a smile and Tomas couldn't say anything to that.

"I wouldn't want that either. The ride would be... appreciated," he acquiesced and followed Rose out to the car, breathing more easily the second he stepped out of the house.

The ride was short and he didn't really have time to think about what happened, because Rose kept him talking about everything and nothing, probably hoping he wouldn't get sick in the car or something. Tomas had to admit it worked, though now his gut churned uncomfortably.

When they reached the pier, Marcus was already there, leaning against one of the wooden pylons, arms crossed on his chest, face turned towards the setting sun. He looked back when he heard the car and Tomas could see the curious frown on his face.

"Thanks again for the ride, Rose. We'll be staying in town for a few days, so if Harper needs anything... just call."

"Of course. Take care, father," she said with a smile and waved at Marcus, then turned the car back towards the house. Tomas slowly headed to Marcus who was watching him curiously.

"What happened?" Marcus asked without preamble and pushed away from the pylon. He gave Tomas a once over and noted the pale skin, but his partner seemed to be otherwise unharmed. Still, something must've happened for the strange phone call to take place.

"I'd rather talk about it at the motel," Tomas hedged, hoping to gain more time, but Marcus shook his head.

"Too bad. The ferry left a few minutes ago, the next one won't be here for at least an hour. Plenty of time for you to talk."

Tomas looked around, the pier and the water making him nervous and jittery. He didn't like this place, didn't want to stay there and wait, not now when his mind was in such turmoil. Something on his face must've shown his feelings, because Marcus' behavior suddenly changed. He put his arm over Tomas' shoulder and turned him away from the pier, towards a small pub that was maybe a hundred yards farther down the shore.

"Let's get a cold one first, I'm parched," Marcus said easily, his voice softer than before.

They each grabbed a pint and sat down, backs turned towards the water and the setting sun. It was getting dark fast and Tomas leaned his elbows on the table and hid his face in his palms, letting out a tired sigh. Marcus took a swallow of his beer, watching him, waiting.

"You know if you want me to feel sorry for you, you should start talking. This silent and suffering crap doesn't work on me."

Tomas couldn't stop the snort, but he didn't look up.

"I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm just trying to figure it out," he muttered and Marcus raised an eyebrow.

"Figure out what?"

"What..." Tomas shook his head and straightened up, looking straight at Marcus. "What does Cindy have in common with Harper."

Marcus paused with the beer halfway to his mouth.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, sounding just a bit annoyed.

Tomas rubbed at his eyes, trying to push back the headache and the images. It was as if they were fighting for his attention and he didn't have the energy for either of them.

"Tomas?" Marcus reached out and even through the jacket Tomas felt as if the touch grounded him.

"Before I left the house... Andy called me up for this ceremony..." Tomas described the ritual with the paint, but his voice hitched when he came to the part with the handprints. He felt slightly ill at the memory, Harper's last, bloody red handprint shining like a damn sign.

"I already saw those handprints... when I was in Cindy's head... with the demon. They were on the wall of the church. It didn't make any sense at the time, but now..."

'Now it makes even less sense,' Marcus thought, puzzling over this latest development.

"I don't understand this, Marcus. What does it mean? Are the demons communicating? Or is it a sign from God that we're supposed to help this family?"

Marcus shook his head, feeling a stirring of anger deep inside. He swallowed down half the glass of beer, knowing full well that he barely ate anything, but not caring a bit. He wanted to silence the sudden doubts that were whirling inside his head. Was it God who sent those images to Tomas after all? If so, why? Why was it Tomas and not Marcus? What did he do so bad that God decided to leave him?

On the other hand, what if this was the work of those damn demons and they were just luring Tomas into a trap... how the hell was he supposed to help him? Without God on his side, Marcus felt useless, impotent. It didn't help that Tomas seemed to be so set on the idea that all these visions were a gift, rather than a damn curse.

Feeling rather sorry for himself and the beer giving him just the right buzz, Marcus felt his walls slowly coming down. So when he heard Tomas say 'Those handprints, they have to be a sign,' in a voice tinged with desperation and hands clasped like in a prayer, Marcus couldn't stop his doubts coming to the surface.

"Yeah, but from what?" he asked, staring at his almost empty glass, watching the line left behind from the foam as if it could show him the answer.

"Or who?" Tomas corrected, still not ready to admit that the visions were anything but God's work. Maybe because the only other alternative was scaring him to death.

Marcus didn't deign the question worth a response. He already said what he thought and if Tomas didn't want to listen, then so be it. He was still staring into his glass, as if it was holding all the life's answers, when Tomas let out a shaky sigh.

"They're in my head, Marcus, I don't want them here," he choked out and Marcus looked up, feeling a twinge of sympathy for his partner. He reached out and ran his hand over the back of Tomas' neck in silent support.

"I don't understand."

"Maybe you're not meant to," Marcus said slowly, realizing that he was probably slightly drunk, still not used to the alcohol after over 40 years of abstinence.

"Do you think God led us here?" Tomas asked, looking at him with hope. Marcus wanted to give him an answer that would calm him down, that could keep him focused on the job, but the last few days, hell, the last few months left a mark on him. The talk with Peter, however short it was, also let Marcus realize the depth of his doubts. Marcus couldn't stop the words that followed, tinged with jealousy and despair.

"If he did, he led you, cause he's not talking to me. I haven't felt him for weeks. No. Months. I can't remember a time when he wasn't there," not once since he turned twelve and looked at His face. "Even when the words are flowing through me, I don't..." Marcus bit his lip, shaking his head in pain at the loss. "...feel his touch," he finished, almost in disbelief. "Or hear his voice."

"Well, maybe you're not listening," Tomas said, trying to be helpful and Marcus smirked, finally looking up from his beer, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Tell you what. Next time you have a chat with the creator, can you ask Him where the hell he's been?" He drank down the rest of the beer, trying to chase away the taste of bitterness. It obviously didn't work, as Tomas, poor good Tomas, plagued by visions and signs tried to offer his own comfort.

"Are you all right?" The younger man asked, reaching out and touching Marcus' arm with the same concern Marcus had shown him a minute ago. Marcus' lips twitched in an imitation of a smile, more reminiscent of a grimace as he leaned back on the chair and brushed the taste of the beer off his mouth, looking for the right words, any words really.

"I'm an empty pitcher," he said, almost spitting the last word. And bless Tomas' soul; he looked at him with such confusion Marcus almost felt like laughing. He didn't though, just drummed his fingers on his leg, feeling jittery.

"Pitcher? Like a... baseball pitcher?" Tomas frowned. Marcus shook his head, not feeling the humor of the situation.

"Water pitcher," he spoke, looking into the darkness, feeling it growing inside him. "His grace travels through me, becomes form, becomes word, becomes power. That's how it's always been." Marcus looked aside, towards the water, as if in shame. "Except lately."

"Now everything's rushing out and nothing's coming back. And the last of it leaves when the words..." Marcus took in a shaky breath, "...run dry." And here it was, the fear that was plaguing him for the last few months, out in the open.

Tomas leaned over, eyes wide and voice irritatingly reassuring as he said: " _IF_ the words run dry, I'll be there."

Marcus looked at him as if he was just hit by a sudden realization.

"We're partners," Tomas added, hoping to help, but instead Marcus felt a cold shiver run down his spine, reminded of the demon's words – 'He doesn't need you'.

"Maybe God didn't send me a partner..." His lip twitched as he looked into Tomas' eyes. "Maybe he sent me a replacement."

Tomas looked away, troubled and Marcus sighed. This wasn't the time for self pity.

"But there's work to do here," he said, to himself as well as to Tomas. "There may be something very wrong on this island." His voice regained strength and Tomas perked up.

"So you trust me?" he asked, sounding surprised and hopeful at the same time and Marcus knew he had to make one thing clear.

"You believe in God, Tomas. I believe in you. Apart from that..." Marcus reached for the glass and took the last sip of his beer. "I haven't got the foggiest."


	9. Episode 5

_**A/N:** Beta-read as always by the awesome Starrylizard. Any and all mistakes left are my own. Hope you enjoy:)_

* * *

The night wasn't very kind to either of the men, their minds too disturbed by what happened on the island and the possibility that instead of helping Harper find a new home, they just put her into a more dangerous situation. The pleasant buzz Marcus felt from the beer whilst they were waiting for the ferry was long gone. What was left was a bitter taste in his mouth, a low key headache and a feeling that things were spiraling into some catastrophe. He lay down thinking about God, still trying to hear his voice but coming up empty. He wondered if he fell out of God's grace when he failed to see that the demon in Casey Rance wasn't really gone, when he dared to think it was that easy. Was it pride that was his downfall?

No, Marcus thought, turning his head on the pillow. Pride wasn't his problem, not for a long time now. He'd been brought down on his knees too many times for that and after Mexico... any pride he could have felt was gone. So what was it? Did killing a man in front of the Pope bring on God's disappointment in Marcus? Was it drinking? Was it lust?

None of those sounded right and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't God that lost faith in Marcus, but the other way around. Ever since his excommunication, Marcus felt empty, abandoned, cast out. Just like that child over forty years ago that was shown into boys home because he happened to kill his own father in self-defense. The child no one wanted to get close to, because he spilled blood at the tender age of seven. Killing seemed to be in his blood and, in those early days, Marcus often found himself running, hiding in tall trees as other children pelted him with rocks, shouting obscenities that cut deeper than any knife could.

'Like father, like son!' Marcus still remembered hearing the director of the boys home say to the nurse who was tending to his scraped knuckles after he grew weary of running and finally repaid Billy with a punch of his own. That was the night he first touched a blade to his skin... not because he was scared of the others. Never of the others. No. That night, Marcus was scared of himself, of what he could become. It took almost five years until he stopped being scared of himself... it took him standing face to face with a demon, the bible and flickering candle the only thing separating him from pure evil. That's when he heard the voice, when he felt the warmth enveloping his whole body, and realized he would never again be alone because God was there with him.

All those years, all those lonely days spent on the road in different motel rooms, leaving behind people he never allowed himself to get close in the first place, not after what happened to his little church mouse. After her, Marcus swore never to be that reckless again. It was a lonely life, but he still heard God's voice, felt his light coursing through him and knew he had purpose. What more can a man crave for, other than purpose?

Until Gabriel. That was the moment Marcus started doubting. And it was Marcus, not God, who seemed to hold onto that doubt, hold onto the anger about the injustice of it all. But despite it all, Marcus believed and, even though he and God weren't on speaking terms, the warmth and light was there.

And when one day a young priest from Chicago stepped into his room, that warmth and light shone so bright that Marcus screamed in anger. How was this fair? Eighteen months he was trying to reclaim his purpose, to find his path and trust in God. Eighteen months... and then he was sent a priest that didn't even _believe_ in demons, yet he had the 'gift'.

Marcus was angry then and it took him some time to accept that Tomas was sent his way for a reason. Saving Casey Rance and the Pope seemed to be reason enough... but then Tomas asked him to stay, to be his mentor. And Marcus felt some of the walls inside him crumbling, being replaced by hope. He felt needed and wanted and it was almost as good a feeling as when he sent his first demon back into the pits of hell.

But where did all of this leave him now? He lost his collar... he lost his identity, the only thing he'd known since childhood. The excommunication felt like being stabbed in the stomach with a fiery knife and not even six months and hundreds of miles later did that feeling vanish.

And today on the island, Peter brought up the question, the one Marcus feared the most. What was he now that he wasn't a priest? He didn't know. He was just an old guy with a bible and a rosary, 40 years of experience he was trying to teach Tomas, hoping that he would manage that before the younger man got himself or someone else killed. The way things were going, Marcus either needed to speed up his mentoring or hope that Tomas really was God's new chosen favorite and that the Almighty won't let any harm come to him. First step for that would be to let him go through the night without any heart stopping nightmares and visions.

Marcus opened his eyes to a slit and looked at the unmoving form lying in the bed next to him. For once it seemed that Marcus' prayers were heard. Tomas looked to be asleep, snoring ever so softly. Marcus wished he could do the same, turn off his brain and just tune out, but it was impossible. There was so much to do in the morning and all they could go on was Tomas' vision and animals acting strangely. They knew nothing about the history of the island and Marcus was thinking about hitting the library first thing in the morning, then almost snorted. He wasn't really the type to sit around reading books and anyway, talking to people was his favorite past time. At least to some people... and the Fish and Wildlife bloke seemed more than willing to talk. Maybe he could ask around on the island, while Tomas could try and get them an invitation for a chat with Andy and the kids. With at least a partial plan formed in his mind, Marcus turned over in bed and willed himself to sleep, a soft prayer flowing from his lips.

 _'Lead me to your still streams, O Lord, where I can kneel in the waters of life. Lay down my anxious thoughts and cast all my cares on You. Here I will wait a while, wait a while, and bathe in the life-giving waters...'_

The words were familiar and comforting, like being enveloped in a blanket. Marcus fell asleep before he even finished.

* * *

When Tomas opened his eyes, skin damp from sweat and the heart beating wildly in his chest, it was still dark outside. Letting out a shaky breath, Tomas sat up on the bed and looked to his left, only to see that Marcus was sleeping, head half buried under a pillow and one of his legs sticking off the bed, as if he was trying to walk away in his sleep. Tomas swallowed, grimacing at the strange taste in his mouth. He was parched and at the same felt like his stomach was full of water, his chest burning as if he held his breath for too long. Tomas felt slight panic and reached towards Marcus, but paused mid motion. This was stupid. It was just a dream, nothing else. A dream he couldn't even remember anymore...

Tomas shook his head. No, he already kept Marcus awake the night before, and there was no reason to trouble him with something that was just Tomas' imagination. Shuddering, Tomas tried to ignore the crawling feeling of something slick touching his skin. He needed to clear his head.

Getting out of bed, Tomas checked the time and was surprised to see it was already five in the morning. That was the time he usually went for a run in Chicago, but nowadays he had other priorities... like exorcising demons or getting some much needed sleep. But just the thought of getting back into bed and closing his eyes made Tomas' breath hitch. He shot one more look at Marcus, making sure the older man was really sleeping, then he grabbed the bag with his clothes and vanished in the bathroom to quickly change into his running attire. When he left the motel room and the cold morning air hit his lungs, Tomas silently thanked God for the relief that flooded his body. He needed this, to run and put all thoughts behind... put all the visions behind, at least for an hour.

When he returned to their motel, the sun was already coming up and the lump on the bed that was supposed to be Marcus squirmed when the front door clicked close.

"If you didn't bring coffee, you can just turn back," Marcus grumbled from beneath the blanket and Tomas put a cup of steaming hot coffee on his bedside table with a smirk. It took Marcus a moment to smell the aroma and to peek an eye open. He sat up in his bed, grabbing the coffee and taking a sip, then he sniffed the air and grimaced.

"That's just gross," he stated, giving Tomas a look.

Tomas frowned, puzzled.

"It's the same coffee you drank the last three days. What's the problem?"

"The coffee's okay, but you smell like a locker room after a playoff."

Tomas took a whiff of air and had to admit that he might've overdone it a bit with the run.

"I thought the doc told you no heavy exercise for at least a week," Marcus reprimanded him and Tomas rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine... and I needed the run. Had to clear my head before we go back there."

"Right, 'cause getting exhausted before actual work is such a good idea."

"Running isn't exhausting. You would know that if you ever tried," Tomas said and went looking for some clean clothes.

"I run only when someone's chasing me, just like any sane human being," Marcus retorted. Tomas snorted.

"Now go, shower, before your stink ruins my coffee."

"Next time, I'm getting you tea... one of those cheap ones from the vending machine you love so much," Tomas teased, then headed for the shower.

"Blasphemy," Marcus muttered under his breath. "This is another test, isn't it?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling. There was no answer, but Marcus didn't really expect one anyway. The day was just starting and the strong coffee helped, clearing the cobwebs in his mind. Outside, the sun was shining and it promised to be a beautiful day. Marcus was pretty sure it wouldn't last.

* * *

They left the truck in the car park and caught the next ferry heading for the island. They didn't really have a plan, except for trying to find out more information about the history of the island or the Kim's house. If there was really a demon, as Tomas' vision and the strange behavior of animals hinted, it most likely already took its victims before their arrival.

"Do you think it is wise to split up?" Tomas asked, earning a raised eyebrow from Marcus.

"I would've thought you would enjoy taking a break from my charming self," Marcus joked, but gave Tomas a thoughtful look. He was expecting Tomas to give him a scalding retort, or at least an easy smirk. Instead, Tomas leaned against the railing of the boat and looked at the water below.

"What, no witty comeback?" Marcus stepped up next to Tomas and leaned against the railing too, their elbows touching. Tomas shook his head, but managed to give him a lopsided grin.

"I think I'm still just a bit... thrown, by those handprints. The meaning of them..." Tomas grimaced, the worry clear on his face. Marcus instinctively reached up and gave the nape of his neck a gentle squeeze.

"Don't," Marcus said and his hand slid away with a final pat on Tomas' back.

"What?"

"Don't try to figure it out, Tomas. The more you think about these visions... the easier you make it for the demons to slip in along. _If_ it was God's plan, you won't understand until it's time, anyway. And if it wasn't _Him_... the less time spent pondering, the better."

Tomas looked at Marcus, surprised that he even admitted the possibility of the visions coming from God. He wanted to say that he's careful, that he won't let any demon slip into his mind without invitation, but he knew it would be a lie. He might be able to refuse demons access to his mind when they are face to face during an exorcism, but he had no control over the visions or over his dreams. That scared him more than he was ready to admit, especially after what happened with Harper. There were moments when his body and mind weren't his own and, even though he didn't want to admit it out loud, Tomas begun to realize that Marcus could've been right since the beginning.

Pushing away from the railing, Tomas gave a small nod, then heeding Marcus' advice, changed the topic.

"Are you sure I'm the right one to try and persuade Rose? After all, you're the charming one," Tomas smirked and Marcus rolled his eyes.

"We might've had a bit of a rocky start with Rose. I think your collar combined with that kicked puppy look might be of better service in this case."

Tomas snorted and shook his head.

"You and a rocky start? Hard to imagine." Tomas remembered their first meeting when Marcus practically pushed him against the wall within the first two minutes. The second one wasn't much better with the ex-priest breaking into his apartment, but despite all of that, Tomas knew since the first moment that he could trust this man, that he needed him. And even though Marcus might've doubted the first vision that brought them together, Tomas was sure _that_ wasn't the work of any demon.

They'd reached the island and, as the boat docked in the port, any amusement Tomas felt was lost when he once again stepped onto the pier. The gust of wind brought warning whispers that made his skin turn up in goose bumps, but Tomas wasn't ready to let it deter him. Just the idea of leaving the island, of leaving Harper and the other kids in danger, made his steps more determined.

"What will you be doing while I try to convince Rose about needing our help?"

Marcus shrugged.

"Yesterday I met up with some locals. I'll try to ask around about the history of the island, see if there were any bloody tragedies. Anything that could be a sign of demonic possession in the past. You have the motel keys, I'm keeping the car keys. If you finish before me, take a cab or wait by the car, but I don't want you behind the wheel when your mind is being used as a bloody signal receiver."

Tomas wanted to protest that, but in the end he just gave Marcus a frustrated frown.

"You just don't want me messing with the seat, admit it."

Marcus shrugged.

"Not my fault you have shorter legs," Marcus smirked and popped a candy into his mouth. "Let me know when you finish with Rose. And don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Oh, so I am allowed to pick locks now? Good to know," Tomas grinned and nodded at Marcus as their ways parted.

* * *

The visit with Rose didn't go exactly according to plan and Tomas was wondering if he should've pressed more or, on the contrary, tried to talk his way around the issue. But he was never that good at lying and subtlety could take him only to a point.

There was something in the house, Tomas felt it when he was sitting in the kitchen, trying to convince Rose to let him talk with the kids. It was a presence, a dark one. He heard whispers, felt as if something cold and dark reached through the walls and touched the base of his skull. Tomas had to force himself to stay in his seat and put on a smile instead of showing the fear that was gripping his insides. He was about to call Marcus and tell him they would have to try again, together and maybe with a different approach, that he wasn't ready to give up, when his cell phone started ringing. Tomas looked at the caller ID, then realized it was useless. They changed numbers so often, the only person that could be calling was Marcus.

"Are you still at the Kim's house?" Marcus asked without a preamble and Tomas grimaced, knowing he would have to admit his latest failure.

"No, I'm on my way back. I spoke with Rose, but..."

"Let me guess. She doesn't think us snooping around is a good idea?" Marcus didn't seem surprised and Tomas felt some relief as well as annoyance.

"No, she doesn't. And you knew she wouldn't be so easy to convince, right?"

Marcus had the good grace not to chuckle, but Tomas could just imagine the smirk on his face.

"You know you could've just asked if you wanted to take a break from me for a few hours," Tomas said, feeling the annoyance creeping in, especially when he remembered the presence lurking at the house. "This is no joke, Marcus. There is something wrong in that house."

"I know that, Tomas." Marcus voice turned serious and Tomas slowed down his steps, frowning.

"You found something?"

"Something, yeah." Marcus told him about the story of Glen Powell and his daughter, about the massacre that happened fifty years ago.

"Could the demon still be here, fifty years later?" Tomas wondered. Could demons lie dormant or were they feeding off some poor innocent visitors, lost in the woods?

"I don't know. Not in my experience," Marcus answered the question.

"I should go back and try again with the Kim family."

"And tell them what? That fifty years ago a demon killed a family on the island? Look, your visions brought us here, I believe you. But we need confirmation."

Even though hearing those words from Marcus should've made Tomas happy, all he could think about were the kids and the darkness lurking inside the house. While the demon might've laid dormant for fifty years, it has definitely awoken... and was more hungry than ever. Tomas could feel it, his skin prickling even now. Of course Marcus didn't know that, couldn't feel the imminent danger.

"We will go together, in the daylight. Tomorrow."

"What if they're in danger? What if we can help them?" Tomas needed to convince Marcus. He wasn't willing to wait another day and leave the kids in danger.

"We go pounding on their door in the middle of the night, with some crazy ass story, we're gonna scare them off for good. Are we clear?"

Tomas stopped, biting at his lip, knowing well that the next thing coming out his mouth would be a lie.

"Clear," he said and before Marcus could add anything else, he ended the call, not even noticing the warning beep of the phone's dying battery. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Marcus might've been set on waiting, but Tomas didn't need a confirmation. He felt the evil from the moment he stepped on the island and there was definitely a presence in the house. Tomas didn't think he was the one to wake it up, but their presence quite possibly sped up some things and Tomas was afraid that the children might be in imminent danger. There was no way he would just walk away now and hope that nothing bad happened during the night.

Tomas put the phone away and resolutely turned around. He knew that Marcus would be pissed and that this would just be another disappointment, another failure of his to become a proper exorcist. But right now, Tomas didn't care. The house was calling to him, the woods around him were whispering a warning. His steps quickened, as if he was trying to make it there before the sun settled.

* * *

Despite his earlier joking about lock picking, when he arrived to the house Tomas found the front door unlocked. He felt it strange until he realized that this wasn't an apartment in Chicago, but a house hidden in the middle of the woods on a small island.

Tomas stepped through the door, feeling more like a thief than a priest. He turned on the lights and felt a sudden chill, even as he called out Rose's name. The only answer he got was the lights turning off and Tomas knew that Andy didn't need to lock his doors. Something was inside the house, something much more dangerous than a rabid guard dog.

As the last of the lights flickered out, an unearthly growl shook through the house. His feet turned to stone and even if he'd wanted to run, he couldn't.

Tomas closed his eyes, cold sweat running down his spine as he muttered a prayer for protection in Spanish. He jerked when his ears caught the sound of laughter. Swallowing down his fear, Tomas fumbled in his bag for the flashlight. Mustering up all the courage he could, he followed the sounds, determined not to let himself be scared off. Determined to find some answers.

When things started moving of their own accord, Tomas knew he should've just turned around and left. There was no heroism in staying and letting himself be killed. And for a second his feet moved in the right direction, but then there was the feeling that things would get out of hand. The darkness was growing around him, reaching out into the nearby forest and he knew the children weren't safe, not even there.

So Tomas swallowed his fear and persevered, walking into the attic as if it didn't stink of rot and death. There was food on the floor and months old dust, but all Tomas saw was the painting and all he heard was a dull banging sound that shook the house. Tomas opened his bible.

"In the name of God, the Father Everlasting and all of His saints," he started and the house shook stronger. "I order you to show yourself and make your presence known!" It was like an earthquake and Tomas instinctively turned his prayers to Spanish. The paintings started dancing on the walls and Tomas had to fight the gravity as the floor seemingly tried to vanish under his legs, even as he shouted "He commands you!"

Suddenly, time seemed to slow down and Tomas' eyes went wide in horror and fascination. Everything around him raised in the air, as if held by some invisible force, floating tauntingly, showing Tomas the power that made this house its home. Then as suddenly as it started, gravity took back its hold and everything fell down to the floor. The only evidence that it wasn't all just Tomas' imagination, the settling dust visible in the beam of his flashlight.

Somewhere in the woods, the demon just released its hold on Truck. While the deed was far from done, there was a pesky priest inside its home, rummaging through things that didn't belong to him, trying to find a way to defeat him. The demon roared and in a blink of an eye focused his full attention on the man with the collar in his attic.

Tomas felt the sick presence the moment his fingers touched the stone. He let himself be lulled by the sudden silence, even though he should have known. He should have known that silence brought the storm, yet he couldn't stop himself from saying those words.

"In the name of Jesus Christ... show yourself to me."

'As you wish, padre,' a little girl's voice sounded inside his head and he was plunged into hell.

* * *

Tomas woke up in the attic with a silent scream on his lips, the flashlight blinking next to him, looking as if it was ready to die any moment. For a blessed second he didn't know what was going on, where he was or why every part of his body hurt. For a second there was only the flashlight and shadows dancing before his eyes. Then everything rushed back to him and, with a gasp, Tomas scrambled to a sitting position, banging his back against a table.

"Dios mio," Tomas uttered, overwhelmed by fear. He started muttering a prayer in Latin and the flashlight flickered warningly. Tomas paused, eyes wide as his senses screamed at him all at once. There was some invisible danger lurking close and every bit of his body wanted to flee. Tomas opened his mouth to continue with the prayer, hoping it would push back the darkness that was trying to swallow him.

Unbeknown to him, a little girl was standing over his slumped form, a doll hanging limply from one of her hands. The other hand reached out with purpose and touched the fallen priest right where the hammer connected a few days back.

Tomas screamed from pain and doubled over, barely holding in his lunch. He couldn't see, couldn't think. There was only the pain and the sound of screaming children in his head. Until the little girl leaned down and whispered in his ear, with a voice sweet, yet deadly.

"Run."

And run he did.

Tomas didn't remember how he got out of the house or how he managed to grab his bag, the bible and the now useless flashlight. All he knew was that he was suddenly kneeling on the ground on all fours, the grass wet from the evening dew a cool sensation on his shaking hands. He had just finished heaving, spitting bile but still tasting the blood on his tongue; the sensation of being shot in the stomach battling with the sensation of drowning. Moaning, just the memory of it made him heave again. He expected to see the murky well water but got nothing but spit, stomach already painfully empty.

Sitting back on his hunches, Tomas tried to calm his breathing and prayed silently. This time there was no presence pushing at him but he still felt like something dirty was crawling across his skin. Shivering, Tomas looked around, realizing he somehow managed to leave the house and run into the nearby woods. He didn't run deep though, as he could just see the shape of the house lurking behind the trees.

For the first time since he faced the demon in Angela Rance, Tomas was truly scared. The presence in the house held such... malevolence, Tomas couldn't even start to grasp it. But he could still feel it, in his body, in his mind. That's what scared him the most. He couldn't stop the vision, couldn't stop feeling the pain and fear of those who were killed by the demon. He needed someone to pull him out of that hell and anchor him back in reality. He desperately needed Marcus.

The problem was his phone died as he was halfway back to the house. And even if he could call him, what could Marcus do? He was probably already on a boat heading to the mainland and their motel.

No, Tomas went against his order and had paid the price. Now he needed to pull himself together and somehow make it back to their place, back to Marcus. Back to safety.

Tomas managed to stand up on shaky legs. He was astounded to find his bag lying on the ground only a few steps away. He didn't even remember grabbing it. Tomas woozily picked up the bag and headed towards the road, giving the house a wide circle. He'd almost reached the road when he heard the sound of a nearing car. For a second he froze like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. His mind tried to figure out what the chanceswere that it was Marcus coming to look for him. Even in his shocked state Tomas quickly ruled out that possibility as insane. It might've been someone from the island just passing by, in which case Tomas could maybe hitch a ride and get to the mainland much sooner than he anticipated. But that chance was also pretty slim based on the remoteness of the Kim house. Most probably it was the family returning from camping prematurely. Tomas swallowed and instinctively stepped back from the road, his dark clothing making it easy for him to hide in the darkness of the trees.

Soon enough, a familiar car drove down the road and parked in front of the house. Tomas could see Andy Kim and one of the children, Verity, the girl that seemed to dislike him greatly. There was no one else in the car and Tomas didn't know if he should feel worry or relief that Harper hadn't returned to the house. In the end he settled on worry as he saw Andy rush inside, leaving a visibly shaken Verity behind. Tomas looked wistfully towards the now empty road, then back at the house, the front door still open. Swallowing, he turned back towards the house, his legs feeling like lead.

By the time he'd made it to the front door his heart felt as if he'd run a marathon. Tomas stopped next to the car and looked worriedly inside the house. Verity has vanished in to her room as Andy went up the stairs... Tomas wished to have the courage to follow them inside, to ask what happened and find out where the others were, to drag both family members from that damned house and away from the danger. But it was just that, wishes. Tomas couldn't move. It wasn't Marcus's warning that rang in his head anymore, it was his own experience. He knew that whatever lurked inside was too strong for him. Those visions, they were a warning. A playful warning at that, Tomas realized, because he could've very easily been killed by them. Hell, he already felt like he'd died three different ways. He wasn't prepared for the real deal.

So he stood before the house and looked up in silent terror at the shining light in the attic. He should go inside and do something, anything to stop the demon from taking over Andy.

'Don't be a bloody idiot!' he could hear Marcus's voice clear as day, shouting into his ear. It didn't matter anyway. Tomas's legs refused to take a step closer to the house. Goosebumps covered his arms and he felt positively sick, but he didn't move. As if sensing his apprehension, the lights in the house flickered in amusement and the front door slowly, excruciatingly slowly, started to close. If Tomas squinted hard, he thought he could see a small hand on the door frame. Then it shut with a soft click, though in the silence of the night it sounded like a gunshot.

Tomas jerked, then looked back towards the attic window. The shades were closed and the light was gone. Everything was quiet, except for the loud thumping of Tomas' heart inside his chest. He couldn't stay, not tonight, not by himself. Pushing aside the guilt of abandoning those two people to the evil of the house, Tomas said a prayer for their protection and tried to ignore the animalistic relief he felt with each step that was taking him farther from the house and its occupants.

The night seemed to last forever. It might've been the fact that Tomas kept stumbling on the dark road and stopping several times to fight down a surge of blind panic... at having left the occupants of the house alone, at not knowing where Harper was. But mostly he panicked as he saw flashes of carnage and felt himself being pulled back into the attic.

The visions attacked him once more and he shivered as he felt the cold well water closing in around him. He shuddered when the chain hit his face and felt himself falling to his knees, a silent scream on his lips. His eyes wide open, Tomas blinked in confusion as he found himself kneeling on the hard road, something wet running down his face. Reaching up in blind panic, expecting to find his fingers red and sticky with blood, he was surprised to find only the wetness of tears.

Tomas forced himself to stand up on wobbly legs and continue down the road. The flashlight didn't work since the incident in the attic, so Tomas had to walk the road in total darkness. The moon was at half-mast and only scarcely peeked out from behind the clouds. Tomas was just grateful it wasn't raining.

The walk shouldn't have taken him so long... the walk to the house during the day wasn't longer than an hour, but Tomas found it impossible to walk faster in the dark out of fear that he would simply wander off the road and become lost in the unwelcoming woods. And they were unwelcoming, with all the strange sounds, the occasional hooting of an owl or the swishing of leaves in the wind. Tomas wasn't used to camping out, he was the child of a city, whether it was Chicago or Mexico City. He knew how to behave in the dark streets, what things deserved his attention and when it was wisest to just run. Here, on this god forsaken island, lost in the darkness, everything screamed of danger. This whole island was occupied by evil and Tomas felt the hate and sick interest focusing his way.

Shuddering at the thought of all the demons that could be feasting on this little island and its occupants, Tomas subconsciously quickened his step. Somewhere he must've missed a turn, because he found himself face to face with a road sign. Squinting in the darkness, Tomas let out a shout of frustration as he realized where he was and that he would have to backtrack a mile or two or he would have to walk another six miles to reach the port.

It seemed like the island has conspired against him, like it was playing with him, trying to see how much he could handle. Tomas could almost hear the wind playing with the trees, as if cackling at his plight. Shaking his head resolutely, he turned and started back on the road. He needed to get off this island and back to Marcus as soon as possible... he needed to warn him. The kids were in much bigger danger than either of them had imagined. Steeling himself for more walking, shuddering in the coldness of the night, Tomas gritted his teeth and continued on. He was on a mission, one that had too many lives at stake to just give up, however badly Tomas wanted to. Because he did want to give up... to just get off the island and run as far away as possible, away from the demons and from his 'gift'. Tonight, Tomas saw the truth... tonight he realized his visions weren't a gift from God, they were a curse.


End file.
